The Last Shot
by lafemmecasanova
Summary: The Social Network OOC. Andrew/Jesse. With the final scene shot, it follows through the emotional stress Andrew feels when he realizes that his time with Jesse is quickly running out.
1. the heavy masses

**The Last Shot**  
by lafemmecasanova  
Disclaimer: I do not own The Social Network.

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**Part One: The Heavy Masses **

"—Cut!"

And that was it. Seriously, it simply ended and that was the last shot. No second take, no 'okay, Andrew, look at Jesse in the eye when you say that ending line' or 'Jesse, say that second line one more time a little faster'. There were always multiple shots, always things to try differently to possibly improve a shot. I guess that would be Jesse rubbing off on me, that damn perfectionist. On the outside, I was still a stone with a look of irritation I had imagined Eduardo wearing while maintaining poise. In the inside, I felt dead.

The set wasn't dead. Oh no, it was the exact opposite, the complete and total opposite of the tumultuous conflict brewing in my stomach. Everyone was busy clapping, cheering for the final scene to be over and done with. Maybe they were _too_ happy seeing as the crew already bolted into a fast walk to grab props whilst stuffing them in their arms like they were busy snatching money from the table. I watched as each individual piece was moved, and I could feel my hand resting on the table slowly clench into a fist of disgust. I could have convinced myself it was the leftover anger I built up to play Eduardo, but I knew damn well it wasn't; it was the fact that it was _over_.

Our last scene had been between Wardo, Mark, and their lawyers in the midst of the lawsuit. It was the pivotal moment where Eduardo had been explaining the story until he looks directly at Mark and tells him, _"I was your only friend. You had one friend." _Of course, ever since I met Jesse it had been difficult to act mad at him, even if it was just acting. Jesse didn't speak in this scene, but his face said it all. Not like it ever didn't; Jesse's one main strength was conveying words through his facial expressions flawlessly and sometimes I feverishly envied him.

Although the rest of the world was moving around us, moving on with their lives, Jesse and I remained perfectly still in our positions at the long mahogany table. His eyes, those handsome blue eyes, had never left mine. Hell, I was wondering if he had even blinked yet. Perhaps he, too, felt the same way I did about the last cut. Perhaps he, too, felt the weight on his shoulders not lessen, but only increase. It was as though that single word froze time, our time, possibly the only time we would ever work together again.

Unable to do much else, I studied as "Mark" transformed back into Jesse. I always enjoyed and often marveled at how dissimilar his facial muscles looked between the two. Over time, I grew accustomed to Jesse's mannerisms and methods. Sooner or later I ended up memorizing his entire routine when exiting a character. As the realization dawned on his arrogant face, Zuckerburg started to crumble. His cold and contemptuous eyes softened, losing their sheen we were told to loath, the one I was told to detest yet empathize. Then, his face would slowly become more and more like Jesse, but he always looked displeased, always defeated. After every scene we had ever shot together, he would always have an aura of disappointment. By now I knew it was because he wasn't happy with the way he presented Mark to the camera. Maybe his critique of himself could be his blessing and his curse. A blessing, obviously, since this sort of sealed the deal that he wouldn't become too egotistical about himself, but too many times he put his work down, his own talent. It killed me to see him beat himself up every single time a few takes were finished. Why couldn't he see his gift? He was going to go far, damn it. He was going to be recognized and praised for years to come, I could just feel it.

Yet…Jesse was his worst critic. He always had been.

No. Something else was bothering him. Usually his harsh inner beating of himself was over by now. It was always the look followed by a simple 'you could have done so much better' cringe and finally he'd be back to normal. This time, though…this time had been too long, way too long. Jesse was the kind of guy to beat himself over the head and then pretend like it never happened; he hid his inner emotions quite well from the rest of the world, but as someone who had gotten close to him throughout the film, I could tell otherwise. Something else was on his mind, I could tell by the way his eyes scanned mine erratically.

Before I could say something, he abruptly stood up and pushed the car out from underneath him. He looked unsure of his actions, for his body wobbled in hesitation, but only for a split second. Without a single world uttered, he gathered himself, turned, and took long strides around the end of the table and right past me.

Like an idiot, I sat there, totally dumbfounded, in my own little quizzical world. To be honest, it didn't even register that he wasn't sitting there anymore until I caught the scent of his clothes when he walked by. Snapping out of it, I craned my neck around and watched Jesse continue to stroll past the cameras, past the crew, and straight through the door leading outside the building. Immediately I was worried. Alright, I was always worried about him in some way, shape, or form since he was his own worst enemy, but it wasn't like him to just storm out.

"Jesse?" I quietly asked, like he could hear my whisper telepathically. Still heavy with an unknown weight on my legs, my brain yelled to get up, but I remained where I was as I watched the door settle to a close.

With a newfound strength, the weights disappeared from my legs, allowing me to scramble from my chair. At first, my legs were unsteady and I needed to push down on the table for support as I regained the feeling in the lower half of my body. Once confident I wouldn't fall flat on my face, I jogged and dodged a few crew members I nearly collided with still cleaning up from today's work. A few of them cursed under their breath, I was sure, but quite frankly I could care less. They could curse all they want as long as they didn't hold me up. Yanking open the building's door, my eyes frantically searched for the curly haired boy that left only moments before, but there was no sign of him.

Damn. Since when could Jesse walk so freaking fast?

That's when my eyes hit the head of compressed curls bouncing. From what I could see all the way back at the studio door, his hands were shoved in his pockets, his sleeves rolled up and his face downcast. Yeah, I was still pondering about why he up and left me so fast, but all my mind could focus on was how cold it was and how Jesse had left without a jacket. My body struggled for warmth against the harsh environmental conditions and I half wondered why it wasn't snowing, but I pushed the thoughts from my mind, pressed my crossed arms against my chest, and started walking after him. I made sure my steps were silent though I was pretty sure he was too far away to hear them anyway. Still, that boy could spontaneously obtain supersonic dog ears in the next forty seconds and I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised.

After following for about four blocks, I finally mustered up the courage to speak up. "Jesse?"

"Go home, Andrew," he replied abruptly enough to stop me in my tracks. I won't lie, I was fucking _cold_, but I knew better than to leave him like this. I couldn't leave him like this, not without knowing. Unlike me, he kept going, clearly unaffected by the cold since his head was in another dimension.

"You know I won't," I added, hoping that would convince him to stop walking.

"I know you'll go home. I suppose you didn't even leave with a proper jacket on to, you know, shelter yourself from the cold-"

"Look who's talking," I remarked playfully, though by now my teeth were practically chattering so the words came out as more of a laugh than an actual sentence. The interruption finally brought him to stop walking and pivot on his heel to face me. When I was positive he wouldn't turn back around, I began talking again. "Why'd you leave?"

"What do you mean why did I leave?"

"You left the set."

"Why would I stay?"

"Oh, I don't know, because we literally just ended."

"Technically, Andrew, we ended five minutes ago-"

"You know what I mean, Jesse."

"-and since when you were monitoring when I left and when I stayed?"

My jaw clenched, yet I refrained from barking back an insult. Jesse and I rarely fought- actually, had we ever fought before this? If he was picking fights with me like he was still Mark, then there was clearly something very, very wrong. Keeping myself in line, I decided to ignore his remark.

"You could have said goodbye."

What I hadn't expected was the pained look on his face. Before I could explain myself, he turned back around and resumed walking, adding: "Go home, Andrew. You're freezing."

"Jesse!" I called with a certain hint of desperation in my voice, but this time he didn't stop. This time, he kept on walking, and I searched for something, anything, that would stop him again. Deciding to pull the childish card, I hugged my arms tighter to my body and took a few strides forward. "I'll stand out here."

_That_ caught his attention. Taking one more step, Jesse stopped and shook his head in what I believed to be disbelief at my course of action. Turning slowly, he cocked his head to the side. "Andrew-"

"You won't tell me what's wrong? Fine, but until you do, I'm going to stand out here."

From here I could tell his jaw was clenching, angry with how I was behaving, but I couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head to catch him off-guard.

"You're acting childish," he reasoned bluntly.

"I know."

"I'm serious; you are acting like a three and a half year-old, bratty, barely potty-trained, ridiculous little child."

"I know." My antics were beginning to take effect on him. It wasn't long before Jesse dropped his shoulders in defeat and, much to my happiness, took a few steps forward.

"You'll…_freeze_ if you stay out here." Even his tone of voice softened, which only caused my heart to erratically beat in my chest. If there was nothing else to keep me warm, at least my heart was pumping some blood.

"Not really," I responded with a small shrug, though I wouldn't deny the possibility of becoming sick after this. "It's not like you're any better. If anything, you're worse off than I am. You'd catch pneumonia in seconds."

Jesse looked at me with an innocent notion of doubt on his face. "My immune system is better than yours, though."

The way he said that could have killed me, so I offered him a small smile despite the constant chatter of my teeth. "How would you know that?"

Jesse opened his mouth to answer, but he quickly closed it when he couldn't think of anything smart to say. When I thought I had one, he uttered, "I can tell by our hair."

"Did you just say by our _hair_?"

"Yes. My hair is springy and therefore more lifelike than yours. Your hair, on the other hand, is…" For a moment Jesse trailed off as his eyes scanned my hair for any indication of what adjectives he should use. My one eyebrow slowly rose with curiosity.

"My hair is what?"

"It's not springy. It's…thick, like a horse's mane, or a tall, like a deer."

Now both of my eyebrows rose, and my head tilted slightly backwards in bewilderment. "Are you saying I look like a deer-?"

"No!" He interjected, frustrated. Sighing heavily, he took his hands out from his pockets and started to use his hands to talk. It was a relief to see him at least act a little like himself, though he was still worrying me. "Listen, no, what I mean to say is that if you don't get inside somewhere, anywhere, you're going to freeze your ass off and probably get stuck with hypothermia or some other disease you don't want because we're going to have a ton of interviews and promotions to do once the movie is edited and I—Ugh."

Awkwardly, Jesse held his arms out in front of him and made his way over to me at the end of the sidewalk. At first, he hesitated, but eventually his hands found my shoulders. As simple as the gesture was, my breath still caught in my throat at the touch. I was a mixture of emotions, and some didn't even make sense. I felt happiness for finally getting through to him, doubt for what I was feeling, pride for what I had just accomplished back at the studio, sadness, and, most of all, fear. So, so much fear. Jesse's eyes landed on mine, locking in a stare, but something about the gaze flipped a switch inside of me. I reminded myself that tonight was the last night either of us would be dressed as Eduardo Saverin or Mark Zuckerburg. Tomorrow we would be scheduling interviews and other appearances in separate places, maybe even continents away from each other. Someone I had spent every day with for the past few months would be leaving me, maybe even for months or years or even forever, who knew? I enjoyed getting my caffeine fix in the morning with him, or having off-the-wall conversations about things normal beings didn't bother spending an hour conversing about. I wouldn't see that curly mop anymore, or hear that laugh, or even…just even…

I hadn't even realized I was crying until I felt a warm thumb touch my cheek and glide over it. I guess it looked sort of stupid, me being a little taller than him with his one hand reaching up to my shoulder while his other wiped away a tear escaping my eye. Finally jerking myself back into reality, I sniffed and caught the last bit of whatever Jesse was going on about.

"…Andrew? Andrew, what are you crying- no, c'mon, stop, don't cry, don't…I didn't mean to run out on you, I didn't exactly think about it. Don't cry, please?" Jesse looked so out of place as he tried to handle the situation. "If- If this about calling you a deer, I swear, you are not a dear. You're like a bison, or an antelope- No, that's not manly enough…You're a mountain lion!"

I let out a choked out chuckle at his last comment and sniffed again. My hand lifted to wipe the other cheek in embarrassment. "A mountain lion, huh?"

When I spoke, Jesse lit up and nodded. Sighing, he shoved a hand in his pocket and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. His arm lightly pushed me forwards to get me to walk with him; I followed suit.

"C'mon, Andrew. Let's just go home."

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Part two is coming up! Reviews & comments are appreciated! x


	2. one night, one chance

**Part Two: One Night, One Chance**

Acting warm is a lot harder than it looks.

After my little crying stint in the middle of the city, Jesse turned the two of us around to start in the direction of the hotel we both had been staying at during production. I felt stupid for my tear stained cheeks and my nose red from letting emotion spill over unintentionally. Still, I reminded myself, it could have been worse. On the bright side, I picked a good time to cry; the sky was pitch black and the lighting overhead didn't illuminate too well, so as long as I kept my face downcast, no one would see. Thinking of other people seeing me in such an abysmal state didn't affect me as much as, say, remembering that Jesse had seen me break down for God knows how long. I hadn't even noticed I was crying until he freaked.

Jesse. Now, he was a totally different story. The entire way home he was silent, but I couldn't tell you what was going on in his mind. Granted, knowing him, he was probably as crazed as I was, if not more so. Obviously I was the more emotional portion in our warped equation, but I can't remember a time where Jesse had been seriously…well, human. Not human, per se, but so open, exposed. Still, I digress. The last thing I wanted to do following our explosion was decipher his view on all of this. True, they were probably enlightening and eye-openers, but I was so wrapped up in my own mixture of emotions that it was complex to walk properly.

Our hotel was located in the opposite direction Jesse had been venturing towards. For a few moments, I half-wondered where on earth he could have possibly been walking off to. Jesse wasn't exactly the biggest socialite on the planet, if even at all. No one could truthfully say they could imagine Jesse sitting at a bar with a bottle of gin in one hand and a tiny glass in another, drinking his problems away. The very thought of Jesse even going to a bar to pick up chicks could make me giggle.

However, if the chicks were changed to cats, that would have been a different story entirely.

Our stroll was, needless to say, completely and utterly silent. Not like there was really anything to say, though. From what I gathered, we both had a lot on our minds, so silence was more rather than less of a good thing. My mind focused on the city sounds and the vague flashes of light gently displayed against the sidewalk, and gradually my mind became at ease. The cold sporadically stung random portions of my face as it clashed with the tear stains from earlier, but I didn't mind. No, I was just glad Jesse wasn't out and about by himself.

My thoughts were cut short when a door swung open towards me, causing my body to react and take a step back. A collision of the harsh winter versus the brilliant technology that pushed out a gust of heat was enough to get anyone out of their own little bubble, even Jesse, who already held the door open. I stared blankly, confused, until my mind clicked:_ Right, Andrew. You're supposed to walk through doors when people hold them open for you, not stand there and make them wait longer out in the cold._

Sheepishly, I offered a smile of appreciation. "Thanks."

Jesse said nothing and waited behind a couple extra seconds prior to joining me in the lobby. The ride up the elevator was not so pleasant, either, for the continuous silence was starting to bud a tang of awkwardness between us. Shuffling into the metal box, I stayed towards the right while Jesse naturally took the left. Our suite – it saved money and it was a pretty big hotel, so sharing didn't seem to be an issue until _my_ issue dropped into my brain's mailbox – was located on the fourteenth floor. It consisted of two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a common room – hey, sound familiar? – and a balcony, not that that was really a room, but it came with the room as an added bonus. The view overlooked the city's buildings, so I had no complaints on this end.

My hand feebly stretched out for my thumb to quickly press the dim '14' button on the elevator wall. Once lit, a few moments passed, and the box lifted itself from the cables to take us to our destination. Trying my best to ignore the awkward silence still looming around us, my eyes traveled to the flickering lights up ahead to keep me occupied.

By the time the bar got to floor eight, a hand shot out of the blue, smacking the emergency stop button several times. Before I could blink, the elevator jerked to a halt, and my eyes glanced sideways, moving with my head, to see where the hand had come from. Jesse was spread out in front of me, but his body recoiled nervously once he seemed sure we weren't going anywhere. Needless to say, I was at a loss for words.

"Jesse, what're you—?"

"I left the building because I couldn't stand being in there with you anymore," he blurted out, clearly set to no-filter mode.

I stood there, dumbfounded and numb. What the hell did _that_ mean? He couldn't stand being in there anymore with me? Was this some sort of sick joke he was playing. Staring at him with my eyebrows furrowed in a cross between anger and bafflement, I took a moment to choose my words wisely, but my brain couldn't come up with anything intelligently coherent.

"You, you _left_ because _I _was there?"

Something flashed behind Jesse's eyes, and I knew instantly that it was of some form of regret. Instead of giving me an answer, he reached back over to try and fix the elevator and undo his last action. Still, I wasn't having it. My hand caught his wrist before it could reach over and change the course. In return, his arm tensed instinctively; under my finger tips I could feel the smooth, cold skin, and part of the elevated veins from clenching. It took so much self control to keep myself from brushing a finger or two to feel the bumps and little hairs prickling up in the form of goose bumps.

"We're going to alert the authorities and be arrested under proclaiming a false emergency," he swiftly reminded me, though his voice slipped into the fast-paced method he picked up to mirror Mark's linguistic patterns.

"You're the one who pressed it!"

"Yes, but I now regret the action."

I could have exploded. "You can't just blurt something out—"

"No, I take it back."

"—and just assume- No! You are not taking it back, Jesse." My shout came out much louder than I had anticipated. Exhausted, I let out a heavy sigh and dropped his wrist, clearly not in the mood to put up a physical argument. The last thing we need was a brawl over something so little, but I doubt either of us could actually put up a fight. We weren't like that. No, we weren't even supposed to be like _this_.

Jesse shuffled close to his side of the elevator, his other hand now resting upon the forearm he retracted once I let go. Regrettably, my gaze traveled down to get a look at his face. He was struggling with something behind his eyes, enough to make his facial muscles contort to pain. Damn. Yelling at him felt like yelling at a freaking puppy, so naturally I felt like an ass when he retreated back to his shell. Bringing Jesse out of his little shield shell had been a doozy in itself. When we first met on our beginning days filming The Social Network, he was his only person. It practically took months to fight through the thick firewalls and awkward monsters to get to the core of the guy. Backtracking was not an option.

With nothing else to say, my mouth decided to do the talking and let out whatever came to mind first. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?"

"This!" Groaning, I smacked the inner part of my wrist to my forehead and took another deep breath. "Jess, we are friends, okay? If you don't remember, the definition of a friend is a person who you know well and regard with trust and-and affection."

His eyes rounded in a sort of disbelieving daze. "Did you seriously just quote the actually web dictionary definition of a friend?"

For a moment, I paused, unsure, with my mouth hanging open as if ready to respond, but my index finger rose in gesture. "What concerns me is that you actually know the definition and where it's from. Wait, no, where I got it from and if it's a quote isn't what's important." Shaking my head, my hand dropped and I recovered my argument. "Fact of the matter is, we are friends, alright? Friends, they do stuff for each other. They ask what's wrong when they see something is wrong with the other friend and keep asking until eventually they give in and tell them so that they can make it better. They do stupid stuff together and laugh about the dumbest inside jokes that may just involve a fruit. They… they look at movies or go to sewing classes together or play wingman friend so that when they get drunk, they're there for their friend when they need to get water because they're puking up their guts. Friends talk, and when they talk, it could be about a billion and a half things. It _should_ be about a billion and a half things, not just four or five. By now, we've gone for at least four thousand and twenty-eight things. We've talked about everything else, Jesse, everything that comes to mind.

"And I can see it, right there," I continued with my hand now raised to my face. With my index finger, I drew an invisible oval hovering over the frame of my face to emphasis my point. "There is something bothering you, something is really making you lash out, and as a friend I want to help you out." When he made no comment about my little speech, my voice grew weak and urgent. "Jess, please. Talk to me."

A beat passed.

"There's a lot going through my head," he finally mumbled. Relieved, I gathered my pride, stashed it somewhere for a later date, and urged him on.

"Like what," I asked, though it came out more as a sentence than a question. To coax it out of him, I kept my voice low and soothing as best as I could.

He took a few more moments to pick and choose his words carefully before answering. "It's a lot you wouldn't understand."

The damn wall again. "You don't know that until you try."

"No. This is different and foolish, something that should remain locked in a vault somewhere and not spoken from a mouth."

"I'm sure it's not."

"How would you know? It's not like you're psychic or a professor at a prestigious mutant academy who specializes in the power of telepathy."

"Irrelevant."

"How?"

"I know you."

"I don't see how the fact is as irrelevant as you claim it to be."

Taking a left turn in the conversation, I turned my entire body to face him. Although it might have been a stretch, I was still curious. I mean, I knew first off that Jesse was a very private person, but by now he would have spilled the beans. "Is… Is it something about _me_? I mean, is that why you won't tell me?"

"It has everything to do with you, what else would be actually bothering me out of the millions of choices on your plate?" At first, I felt a pang of guilt. I thought the problems were over and that they could come to a conclusion, but what hurt me was when he strung in the last bit of sarcasm at the end just to spite me.

"You're being sarcastic," I croaked, stating the obvious.

"I don't want to talk about it," he ended coldly, shifting back towards the button. This time I let him push the '14', but I wasn't letting this go. The cold on his overflowed into my brain, it seemed, and instantly I felt anger for his resentment to my offer.

"You know, you're being a dick," I growled under my breath. "Bloody hell, I only wanted to he—"

I heard a noise, something close to a shuffle, then out of the blue my body went airborne and crash landed against the cold metal wall of the elevator, practically knocking the wind out of me. My brain sort of lollygagged for the most part, and for a split second I mentally went through my name, address, and telephone number just to make sure I hadn't fallen and died. My arms were held down by a heavy force while something cold ran against my lips and a—_oh._

Jesus Christ, were those _lips_?

The last thing I had expected from my insult was to be pinned against a wall. My entire body snapped out of its state of shock and into one of confusion. Once my brain reminded me to breathe, I took in a scent that was entirely too unique to disregard. It smelled like aftershave and way too much intelligence compiled into one person—

Oh my god.

Oh, my god.

Those just weren't a pair of lips; those were _Jesse's_ lips.

Unable to fathom reality, my eyes stared in stunned silence once they opened to see Jesse standing in front of me with his arms completely straight out, engulfing me, imprisoning me to his mercy. His lips were a lot softer than I had ever imagined before while sitting on set waiting for the cue to go. His eyes were tightly shut, like this move was born from the impulsive confliction raging war in his head. And… _oooh, god_. I felt something press up against my hips and roll in a tantalizingly slow manner, causing my eyes to roll into the back of my head and give over to temptation.

Trying my best to hold in a whimper threatening to emerge, I dipped my head lower and pressed my own lips against his. That was it. Like my compliance had been a trigger to his scheme. His lips finally moved against mine, frantically, desperate. I returned the favor by matching his passion, though my head was swimming in a whirlpool even I couldn't describe. All I could rely on were my senses, which were heightened to the point where I felt every inch of movement. His hands started to slowly trail down my forearms, leaving a trail of fire in contrast to our equally iced skin.

Eventually his mouth asked for permission with simple hints, like occasionally poking his tongue out and running against my lower lip, causing my body to shiver inwardly and mind go numb. Somehow my lips parted, I don't remember ever opening them, and soon enough my tongue was wrestling his in a dance neither of us were prepared for. The movements were shaky, awkward, like a normal improvisational make out would be in a dusty old elevator.

Suddenly, his hips desperately grinded against mine, making me involuntarily moan. I knew I sure as hell felt something behind the fabric of his pants, but I was at the mercy of his undoing. Somehow Jesse had found this hidden strength I don't think even he knew he possessed. Crotch against crotch, bodies sandwiched in an elevator, I prayed to every God in every book that no one would intrude. His persistent movements only created a small problem in my pants. Shit, fuck, those were the pants that needed to go back to the studio in the morning, they weren't my pants. No way in hell I could actually do something in them. I begged my self control to give me the strength of Zeus to keep me from coming on the spot, right here, right now. Self-control didn't want to answer my prayers because my pants became almost blindingly constricting.

Fuck, I needed him, and I needed him now. Screw the possibility of other people seeing, like paparazzi that had occasionally shown up at the worst times, or the fact that the guy giving me a boner right now was more or less my best friend. I think the elevator even halted to give us some more time or keep wandering eyes off of us. For what felt like hours later, the floor light chimed, but Jesse either didn't want to stop or he just didn't hear it.

The minute the door opened, Jesse dragged us back, never breaking from our intense kisses. We smashed into the adjacent wall, this time with his back against it, and I ran my fingers through those curls, _god,_ those curls, earning a slight noise from the genius. Actually, a few times we collided with the walls of the hallway and probably woke up a few neighbors considering it was in the middle of the night. Now that I think about it, I guess I should have sent them apology notes to slip under their doorsteps.

By the time we got to the door, my back was pushed up against the door, and I was the one with the room key. Well, Jesse had a room key, but mine had been in my pocket so I took the liberty in letting us in. My trembling hands reached down to try and collect the key; my fingers failed miserably twice in a row, but, as they say, third time's the charm. Reaching behind us to slide the key card through the slot, I almost dropped it when I felt a hand dip and run over the crotch of my pants in such a deliberately sluggish speed that I practically cried out in protest.

Stumbling into the room, Jesse had already started on removing my suit jacket from my shoulders. Within seconds it fell to the wooden floor of the room. What blew my mind was how confident Jesse seemed. Pouncing wasn't like him; none of this was like him, so why was he doing it? The thought of Jesse Eisenberg doing dirty things, _leading _the dirty things never occupied my thoughts. Granted, other thoughts did that involved him and dirty, but that was different. It wasn't every day I jumped on my best friend and tried to maul him. Maybe in this equation, he should have been the mountain lion.

My back was pressed against the wall for the umpteenth time, but our kisses and movements became much more frenzied and shameless than back in the elevator. His hands moved to my shirt and unbuttoned a few pieces holding my shirt together; halfway down he must've gotten bored, for his hands left and instead paid attention to the button of my way-too-tight pants. With my head swirling as his lips left mine to go explore my neck, I started running my hands down the front of his body until they reached the edge of his shirt. I would have lifted it, but the feel of release from the binding pants made me gasp out. His mouth made its rounds around my neck until it reached my collarbone, now exposed, in which it rounded, making an 'O' shape against my skin, and began to suck. I couldn't control myself.

"Oh, god, Jesse," I moaned and nearly half sobbed out with desire.

And just like that, the sucking stopped. I whimpered in protest, but the look on Jesse's face as he backed up from me on the wall shut me up really quick. In Layman's terms, he looked as though he had just seen a faceless ghost. His eyes were wide with terror; you could practically see the color drain from his face as he continued to move away from me. I was still panting on the wall, trying to catch my breath and drag myself back down to earth. Something was telling me that he hadn't meant any of that to happen; it was blatantly displayed on his face. The entire area of his mouth was red and most likely chapped from kissing so long with his eyes shining wildly with desire.

Swallowing my own lust, I stared back at him, not fully realizing what had just happened, what could have happened. "Jess?"

He didn't respond. Hell, he didn't even blink. Instead, he backed up, mouthing something incoherent that I couldn't catch, and sprinted to his bedroom, leaving me in the hallway with my shirt halfway unbuttoned and pants popped open looking like a hot mess.

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Ahhh! My first ever smut-like scene!  
I'm debating on continuing or not. Reviews are appreciated! (: x


	3. friends on the fence

**Part Three: Friends on the Fence**

The last thing I remembered was Jesse backing off to sprint to his bedroom, leaving me in the hallway with my shirt halfway unbuttoned and pants popped open looking like a hot mess.

Somehow I managed to notice how round his eyes had gotten, like a child's would if they were caught doing something they were told not to do time and time again. All they did was scream guilt, but my brain barely registered the cause of this sudden change in heart.

It was the sound of a slamming door that brought me back to life. Shakily, my hand rose so my fingers could gingerly graze my lips. Piece by piece, the puzzle came together and I replayed the entire event in my head one last time. The argument outside, the decision to go back to the hotel to get some shut eye, the second fight in the elevator, the… the kiss. Jesse _kissed_ me. Not by accident, but on purpose. He purposefully pinned me to a wall and practically dry-humped me all the way back to the suite. This wasn't an accident, and I sure as hell knew he wasn't drunk.

Oh shit. Oh, _shit_.

Pushing out a shaky breath, my body jolted forward from the wall to propel itself in the direction Jesse ventured to. My ears picked up on a swift click; Jesse had locked himself in. No, no, he couldn't actually lock the door on me. We needed to talk, though I wasn't entirely confident that I could speak coherent sentences. Trying to get there as fast as possible, I felt out of breath and my legs start to give out despite the fact that his room wasn't that far from the suite's entrance. The hardest – no pun intended – task was trying to diminish my aching boner and allow my heart to take a rest from beating so damn fast. So far it was an absolute failure.

Once I approached the door, I continued to do the deep breathing exercises, but they weren't even close to being successful. I needed to have a level head to speak to Jesse, especially after seeing him leave like such a frightened rabbit. When I felt air where I thought I shouldn't, I cursed under my breath and looked down. Damn, my pants were still open. Only then did I realize how disheveled and maniacal I looked.

"Jess?" I croaked; my voice was still a bit husky, I mean, how could it not be, but I cleared my throat and attempted to tuck my shirt back into my pants to look less like an animal in heat. First time? The shot failed miserably. Second time? Not even close. By the third try, I just pulled the entire shirt out and let the ends freely sway with my movements. "Jess, you in there?"

There was no answer from the other side.

"Jess? Are you- what am I saying, are you there, of course you're in there," I mumbled bitterly to myself. "Can we talk? Please?"

Still, there was silence; however, I swore I heard movement against the door. In my head, I imagined it wasn't my imagination, that it was Jesse. His back was against the door, refusing to acknowledge that I was there, that this all happened. I imagined his back sliding against the door until he reached a sitting position on the floor as the sound traveled south. Unable to stop myself, my hand lifted and subconsciously followed the movement with my fingers like he could actually feel my touch on the opposite side of the wall between us. In time with my hand, my heart fell. Jesse wasn't going to talk. Although I wanted nothing more than to talk about how this happened, why it happened, I knew there was very little to discuss. There was nothing, nothing, I could say or do. We had passed the point of no return.

Slowing pulling my body back, my fingers traced downwards until they swung limp at my side. My eyes never left the barrier separating the two of us, but the overwhelming production of tears made it hard to figure out what I was even viewing anymore. Not one emotion could describe how I felt, not uncertainty, not confusion, not anger. Unsure of how to handle the tornado, I quietly spun on my heel and allowed my legs to pace a few steps away.

When I felt the uncontrollable urge to hit something, anything, I sort of figured out that out of all the feelings I could have been experiencing, devastation dominated.

Somehow I prevented myself from doing so. I was close, with my arm raised in the air and my hand clenched in a furious, white-knuckled fist, but I knew better than that. Finally getting a grip on myself, I sniffed back my blurry vision and awkwardly shuffled to pick up the thin business jacket left sprawled on the floor.

Without another noise, I bit back whatever sob was lodged in my throat, stormed through the hall, through the sitting room, and to my bedroom, where I, too, locked the door.

By the time I awoke, Jesse was gone.

Then again, that's if you can even say if I was ever asleep. It sure as hell didn't feel like sleeping. Sleeping requires rest, and that right there completely cleared it off the list. If there's a possibility that I could have caught sleep while staring up with nothing left to do besides ponder. I don't believe I had ever become so acquainted with a ceiling in my life. Too bad I wasn't one for painting; I could have made even Monet envious with realistically etched detail.

Though, there's a very large con for having a brain that can withstand a large quantity of memory: you remember _everything_, every word, every smell, every touch. I could still hear the faint whimpers and moans that bounced off of the elevator walls like slingshots. In the dark, an occasional faint gasp would sound through my ears, though when I focused, it left. My entire body reeked of newly-found – and short lived – confidence with an assorted mixture of cologne. I never bothered to button my shirt back up, and my arms still felt like they were on fire, not that I minded. It was a bittersweet reminder that it wasn't some late-night wet dream. Over and over, I played that night on repeat, torturing myself with the little details and the things that probably didn't matter.

Sometimes, when you care enough about someone and something goes wrong, you tend to overanalyze every single word or action. Then you get to thinking maybe you shouldn't have said the one phrase the way you said it, or you should have been more open. Next you start coming up with scenarios, like if you had a time machine to go back and fix it, to stop yourself from ever taking that same elevator or grabbing his arm before he could run off. It's enough to drive you mad.

The clock read 2:30 pm.

Eventually I was going to have to get my lazy ass up and start moving around, but I couldn't find the motive to. Every time my eyes wandered towards the digital alarm clock located beside me on the nightstand, it felt like days had gone by rather than a mere couple of hours. Instead of being Tuesday, I thought of that day being 2:30 PM a week from yesterday. In my boredom, I wound up with reasoning. Perhaps I had fallen into a coma. Perhaps I was alone now and Jesse had taken the plane home because I was out cold for an entire week. It sure felt like it.

I knew by now Shannon had called- Shit, Shannon. What was I going to do about her? The polite thing to do would be sit up or even just reach over to grab the damn thing and give her a ring, but even that sounded like too hard of task to do. She knew I wasn't one for sleeping in too late, after all, so I could see why she phoned me before three o'clock. But what would I even say? I would probably still sound like a wreck from lying awake all those hours of contemplating, wishing Jesse would leave me some sort of note if he wasn't comfortable with blatantly talking.

The conversation was reeling in my mind. She would ask how shooting went and all I would be able to come up with as I improvised were one-word responses. It wasn't like I could go, "Oh hi, honey, no, shooting went swell. Oh! Did I mention I nearly shagged my best friend?"

Oh, _that_ would go swimmingly.

Shannon and I never really hid things from one another and the thought of starting to lie now made me sick to my stomach. Still, I couldn't keep what had happened between Jesse and me a secret. It was just an accident.

Though, one question was seared into my skull: _Why?_

Sighing, I threw the question into the back bins of my mind and decided that it was time to grab my phone. Pressing the button on the side, I groaned when I saw the notifications bar: four new texts, five missed calls, two new voicemails. I guess the entire world noticed I was off-balance. Once I slid off the lock with my thumb, I checked to see who they were from. Texts were divided between one from Armie, one from Carey, and two from Shannon. Two calls were from the studio, while three were from Shannon; the voicemails were split.

Figuring texts were easier to check, I viewed them first.

**(4:20 AM) A. Hammer: yo, it's over! We need to drink it up on our last night of being college brats! lol seriously though, are you awake?**

**(9:12 AM) Shannon: Top o the mornin to ya (;**

**(12:01 PM) C. Mulligan: Hey! How's production going?**

**(2:00 PM) Shannon: gee, rough night?**

Oh, she had _no_ idea.

Figuring I'd settle for the voicemails before leaving my bed, I punched in the password and waited. _"You have two new messages. First voice message on Tuesday at two p.m.:_

"_Hey babe! I guess you had a rough night if you're still asleep. Give me a call, I wanna know how your day went! Okay, miss you, bye."_

A pause._ "End of new message. Next voice message:_

"_Hey Andrew, it's David just calling to let you know that you're free to go. You have a 7:30 am flight to London tomorrow, so pack up and get some rest. Once we're finished getting it all together, we'll give you a call. See ya."_

I felt my body suddenly tense up. Slowly I rose to a seated position on the bed and I could barely breathe. I was leaving _that_ early in the morning? Wasn't I able to cancel it and maybe stay an extra two days? The phone continuously asked what I wanted to do next, but I continued to hold the phone gingerly against my ear with my head in another dimension. Swallowing to coat my dry throat, I finally let out a heavy sigh, but I was unable to move. Apparently today was my last day since they didn't need me anymore. I should have been thrilled considering I hadn't been home for a while, but I wasn't. In fact, I felt even more miserable than before.

Deciding to call her before anything, I deleted the voicemails and pressed on the little phone symbol once it reached her name on my contacts list. For a while, my heart was beating a mile a minute. I had no idea what I was going to say to her, or what she was going to bring up to me.

My thoughts were cut short when she picked up on the other end.

"Hey, you! It took you long enough to call back," she greeted happily.

I tried to match her mood, but I failed. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Rough night?"

A knot tied in my throat. "Yeah, really rough night."

"What happened?"

Now here was the kicker: to lie or not lie. Was it even possible to tell her the truth, now, without actually going over it with Jesse first? "You know, love, just the idea of the movie being over. It's been a lot of work and it's been really intense."

"Oh, I can only imagine," she replied with sympathy in her voice. "But at least you're done now, right? How's Jesse?"

"Jesse- Jesse's fine," I lied. Strike two. "He went out for a few things so he's not here right now. But listen, I'm going to go take a shower and I'll call you later, yeah?"

Shannon merely giggled. "Alright, alright. You go wake your groggy self up and have a good last day, okay? I love you."

Letting out a huff of air, I nodded. "I love you, too, Shannon."

_Click._

Tossing the phone to the side, I managed to swing my legs over the side of the bed. I cringed when my bare feet touched the ice-cold wooden flooring. God, why couldn't hotels just have carpeted floors every once in a while? After a few seconds of preparing myself, I stood up, balanced, and finally ventured out of my bedroom to find myself in an empty apartment. I searched the suite for a little while, hoping to find him sitting there, anywhere, but there was nobody there. It was just me.

The scary part was that Jesse didn't even leave a note. Jesse always left a note or a text or a voicemail for me to let me know where he went; it was just a habit of mind. It wasn't like him to do this.

And it especially wasn't like him to stay out for several hours.

I stayed home all day, watched television, ordered movies, ate some Milano cookies, and did absolutely nothing. The movies I watched were rather boring, some even depressing, but they struck a chord in me. Maybe there was something else hidden beneath those kisses on his part, but what about mine? What was my excuse for wanting to continue? Granted, it felt good, but that wasn't the reason. Sure, I cared about Jesse; I mean he was my best friend, but what if…

The sound of a door opening nearly made me jump ten feet from my seat. Jesse was shuffling in with a bag in hand. Compared to me in my navy blue pajama pants and white t-shirt, he looked well-groomed with his dark denim jeans and gray shirt covered by his comfy black jacket. Once he shut the door, he didn't even acknowledge I was there as he trotted on into the kitchen with this mystery bag. Not like I was any better; I simply sat there and watched him come in like I was an unknown entity, or perhaps the Patrick Swayze in this Ghost story – yes, I did actually view that a few hours ago before Jesse even arrived. What a horribly depressing movie.

Unable to keep quiet any longer, I turned my attention back onto the tv mounted on the wall and flicked through some channels. "A 'hello' would have been nice," I called.

There was no answer for a few seconds. "Hello."

Groaning, I rolled my neck. This was going to be a long night, apparently. "Where have you been?"

"Out," he simply states from the kitchen before heading out to sit in the sitting room with me, though he's all the way on the opposite end in a chair.

Wait, I definitely didn't hear that right. "Out?"

"Yes."

"As in, _outside_?"

"Yes."

"As in the _outdoors_?"

At last, it got to him. Finally looking up at me, Jesse looked more than annoyed by my constant shock. "Yes, as in gallivanting the streets and taking in the fresh air."

By now, I couldn't help myself. As he explained where he went to shoot back at me, I was biting my lip to keep back a laugh, but now I full-out laughed, causing him to reel his head back in bitter confusion.

"What's so funny?"

"That!"

"What is _that_?"

"Jess, you _hate_ being outside," I said to remind him that he wasn't fooling me.

For a moment he sat there, stumped. His mouth opened as though to speak, but he quickly closed it, unsure of what to come back at me with. He knew I knew him better than most people, probably better than anyone, really, so playing this suave I-Go-Out game was sort of pointless.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"Because you constantly tell me how you wish you could make a portable home so you can always be inside since you hate being out so much."

Aha. A second stumped paused.

"Well, I visited a pet store." His face became stone-like. "I miss my cats."

"And?"

It was obviously killing him to tell the truth. "I spent most of my time there. Then I came home."

Of course he did. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair – crap, I forgot I hadn't showered yet – and watched him as he lifted his leg in order to bend down and untie his shoelaces. Mimicking with the other foot, he took both shoes off before standing up to make his way to the bathroom. I heard the sink go on behind me as he scrubbed his hands furiously from probably the excess cat hair and whatever else he was afraid he touched. I could have nearly narrated his own life after knowing him so damn well.

It wasn't until he passed by me to disappear back into the kitchen portion of our suite did I realize I couldn't have it like this. This bleak conversation wasn't cutting it; it wasn't _us_. I needed to be able to talk to Jesse, _my_ Jesse, again like we used to before yesterday. Usually, if one of us left and came back home, we would be able to talk hours on end about whatever we did, even if it was grocery shopping. There was always an in-depth conversation waiting to happen. I could no longer sit here and play the quiet game like nothing was wrong.

An insane idea – but an idea nonetheless – popped into my brain.

"Hey, Jess?" I asked meekly. He was already bringing out products from the refrigerator to prepare dinner. Standing up, my heart was pounding in my chest, but my legs still managed to take me to the archway entrance to the kitchen. Leaning against it slightly with my arms crossed over my chest, I tilted my head to the side until it, too, was resting on the wooden frame. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replied with his back to me as he rummaged through the shelves of the fridge.

Licking my lower lip before biting it, I hoped it wouldn't come out wrong. "Do you want to go out?"

Out of the blue, a crash rang through the suite as Jesse dropped a tray of assorted cheese. Straightening up his back, he turned around, his eyes wide. "W-What?"

"I'm asking if you want to go out to dinner."

With a very slight shake to his hand, he pointed to his right. "I just came in from being out."

"I- I know, I know, I was just wondering since it's our last day here."

We both stared at one another for just a short while, my face hopeless while his still expressionless. If anything, I knew I was wearing my heart on my sleeve by nearly begging him to do this, because _I needed him_. The last thing I wanted was for our friendship to be terminated just because of whatever had happened.

"The studio called me," Jesse announced, completely avoiding my question. I nodded in defeat, and my heart fell in time with my eyes as I sucked in my right cheek.

"I know, Jess… they called me, too," I croaked.

"The editing will probably take a few months, so I have a flight to catch tomorrow around seven since they said they don't need us anymore. They said we can go home. Everything on film looks great, apparently," he explained with a short nod. With that, he turned back around to crouch down and pick up the tray still displayed on the floor from his clumsiness.

Although he didn't sound very excited to go home, my heart was still hurting by the fact that Jesse and I weren't the same. Finished or not, I didn't want to go back to England, not without Jesse. Call me clichéd, but Jesse was beginning to feel like my new home. Wherever he was, I wasn't too far away. Letting those months go into nothing wasn't an option I wanted to choose, but as each hour ticked by, I started to feel like maybe it was the only option I was given.

Figuring it was best to just grin and bear it, I started on over to the fridge in order to grab some sort of leftovers. I would have much rather preferred a burger than some Chinese leftovers, but I wasn't about to go out and eat alone. Crouching to grab the box sitting on the bottom shelf, I slammed the door shut and stood up, only to feel myself rub up against something. In an instant I stood up, my face slightly tainted red, and turned to see what it was. Apparently Jesse was busy preparing it right next to me, but I had assumed he walked away from me. I guess I was wrong. Things couldn't have gotten any more awkward than they already were.

We were only a few inches from each other, and like a lightning bolt the flashbacks from the night before came back. We were just like this, so close, and then he kissed me, and, _god_, those hips. Maybe it was wrong to think such things of your best friend, but I was starting to doubt a lot of things. However, there were a few things I didn't doubt. I didn't doubt that I adore the way Jesse's hair was curly and springy, though sometimes he wasn't a big fan of it. I didn't doubt that Jesse's eyes were probably the best color on the HTML charts – if you wanted to get technical considering he _was_ the new face for Mark Zuckerberg. I didn't doubt that I loved his awkwardness; it gave him this unspeakable sexy undertone. I didn't doubt that thinking he was sexy was a problem anymore.

For once, I didn't doubt the strange feelings I had for Jesse were false.

Swallowing down some saliva, I took the plunge. Letting in a slow and steady breath of air, my eyes never strayed from his. Jesse remains perfectly still, though it kills me that I can't reach out and touch the side of his face. The tough-guy exterior he had been trying to put on diminished right before my eyes.

"I'll miss you… when we go," I said at last. My voice was soft and pleading, like I was begging him to come back to me, to come back and be the real Jesse again. We had no walls; I wanted that to come back.

Swallowing, Jesse stood there, but something extraordinary happened: he let his guard down. His own voice is soft, too, but it has a bit of an uneasy edge to it. "Three months isn't that far away."

Attempting to smile, I nodded and looked down for a moment before gazing back up at him. "I know, I know, it's just… it'll be weird, not spending time with you."

Jesse didn't say anything back this time and instead turned his head to the side, his eyes downcast. I guess even that was crossing the line now. Taking the hint, I tightened my grip on the box of Chinese and turned back around to grab a bottle of wine and a glass stacked on the counter. Pouring myself some, I kept my back to Jesse, hooked the full glass between my middle and ring finger to cradle in my palm, and strolled out of the kitchen. I would have sat on the couch, but quite frankly I was sick of sitting on it, so I nudged open the balcony sliding door and slipped outside. The air was surprisingly light with a gentle breeze here and there. The temperature wasn't too brutal, but it still had a slight twinge of coldness that broke right into my pajama pants. I seriously wished I would have thought twice about this. Having a jacket would have been much more pleasant.

Yet, I wasn't the only one coming out to sit. Surprisingly, Jesse opened the balcony door right after me with a Subway sandwich and a glass of water stuffed into his arms. Like the awkwardly adorable boy he was, he waddled over to the second chair on the other side of the glass table with the black trimming. Placing all of his items down, he reached over, shut the glass, and sat down. It was silent for a little while, until something he whispered made my heart flutter and my eyes completely tear up:

"I'll miss you, too."

Turning to glance at him, he had a small, apologetic smile on his face. He looked sad, and I wanted nothing more than to reach over that table and hold him. Not hug him, _hold_ him. I didn't want this night to end and for the next day to come. It was sickening to my stomach to know that this was probably our last night together, as roommates. Not as best friends, obviously, because you don't throw something like that away. The one thing he would probably never know, though, is how much I would miss him.

"Three months isn't that far away," I repeated with a weak smile.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jesse replied with a short nod. "We just, you know, we'll both be busy and it will be here before either of us know it."

"Do you think it'll do well?" I asked, curious about his opinions on the movie we just made.

"Honestly or what the internet is saying?" He responded.

"Why, what is the internet saying?" I wasn't exactly too up-to-date with our project's statuses, but, more important, wasn't aware that Jesse actually paid attention.

"I thought you would have read it?"

"Neither of us do much internet searches on ourselves."

"Touche. Well, it's been buzzed about on Yahoo."

"Has it really?"

"Yeah, it's controversial or something, I don't know, I only got a glance of it when I was looking for new cat shelters."

Taking a sip of my wine, I smiled. "You miss your cats that much?"

Jesse frowned a little and nodded. "They're in good hands, though."

"Only the best," I added with a short chuckle. I wouldn't be surprised if Jesse had scared the bajeesus out of the woman catsitting with his extremely long list of rules and regulations. His reason? _They need to be cared for properly or else their stomachs may implode thanks to carelessness of the caretaker for feeding them the right amount of food._ "Honestly, though, what do you think?"

"About what?"

"Will the movie do well?"

A pause. "No, probably not."

My brows furrowed. "Really? Why not."

Jesse's eyes shifted towards the city overlook. "My performance was inadequate."

Oh, _god,_ there he went again with his extremely critical views of himself and his talent. If I didn't have self-control, I would have splashed the wine in my hand all over his face before yelling at him, but I took another slow sip and pondered. "Why inadequate?"

"I don't think my Mark was a good portrayal."

"I thought it was brilliant."

"I didn't say a couple of lines the way I should have."

"That's what you say about every line."

"I might have gone a little over the top and-"

"Jesse." He finally stopped rambling and looked up at me with those beautifully tortured eyes. How could he not see how great of an actor he was?

"You asked for honesty," he mumbled.

"You know what?" I asked, setting my glass down before leaning back into the chair. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were nominated for something."

Now _that_ made his eyes bug out of his head. "_Nominated_?" He sounded as though he were on fire. "I- No. No, there is no way I would ever be in a category for my work. I do not have the accomplishments or the skills or any sort of criteria that would ever substantially place me next to actors who have entirely a large line of sophisticated work behind them-"

I cut him off once my hand reached over the table and lightly touched his. The gesture was nothing big, but I felt the need to stop him before he completely disregarded himself as a person.

"Jesse," I told him, "you _are_ a great actor."

Either way, I knew he wouldn't believe me, but a smile slowly appeared on his face. Once I knew I had gotten through to him, I leaned back and let his hand go with my fingers just barely sliding over his skin. I wanted to actually feel his hand, to hold it, to lightly graze his thumb with mine, but that would have been going too far. We were friends, just best friends, and nothing more. We couldn't be… well, we couldn't be what I wanted us to be.

"Thanks for believing in me, Andrew," he quietly replied, but I knew he meant every single syllable no matter how sad that thought was. His hand that had just been on the table was now sitting in his lap, but for a moment he stared at it, uncertain. "I… I don't really know what I would do if I didn't have you as a friend. I think I'd be crazy or- or I would have never made it through this movie if it weren't for you."

"You would have done fine without me, yeah? Look at you, you're brilliant. Everything about you is brilliant," I murmured. "I mean it, Jess."

While we ate, we discussed random things like we used to, debated little topics or came up with off-the-wall scenarios. We must have talked for at least two hours out there on that balcony, maybe even three. With Jesse, there didn't need to be thoughtful conversations or effort; we simply talked until we could barely keep our eyelids open anymore. The joy of having Jesse as a best friend was because being with him needed no effort. Our chemistry was one to envy, and I was sure that no one else on the set clicked the same way as he and I did.

However, it was getting late, and we both needed to pack for separate destinations. Silently, we left the balcony and threw out our trash; for once Jesse was the first to speak. When nothing else was left to be said, I stopped in the middle of the sitting room and faced him.

"Well, uh, g'night then, Jess-"

"I don't really want to go back, Drew," he interrupted with a small frown. It was practically killing me to stay where I was. He looked so upset, so fragile, that I was sure he would break just standing there, fidgeting with his hands and biting his nails. It was a nervous habit of his. "It- It- It's hard to think about, not seeing someone every morning. I miss my cats and I miss my house, but it's going to be really lonely again and…"

Trailing off, he shook his head and looked me in the eye with a smile on his face. "Will you come visit me?"

The request caught me off guard, though I smiled back at him like I had been waiting for him to say that this entire time. "Of course I'll come visit you. Your family misses you, yeah? You go spend time with them and when we're both not busy, I'll fly over and we'll get to hang out."

Suddenly, his face lit up and it appeared as though he wasn't afraid to leave anymore. The last thing I wanted Jesse to feel was anxiety about leaving for a plane in the morning without me, but knowing he cared that much and felt the same way I did about one thing made it a lot easier – and a lot harder – to swallow down.

"I guess this is goodnight, then? Will you come with me to the airport? I think our flights leave around the same time, but I think mine is before you…" Jesse asked softly.

Grinning, I nodded, though I could feel myself already getting choked up. "I'll go with you. Go get some rest, alright? We have to get up early tomorrow."

Nodding, Jesse placed on hand on his opposite arm and turned on his heel, though he stopped mid-turn and came back around. "Goodnight, Andrew."

And with that he spun on his heel and walked in the direction of his room. I continued to stand there for a while, admiring him in the dim moonlight peering through the glass doors. I felt my heart swell with both happiness and sadness. I waited until the darkness swallowed him whole and the door cut off my view before responding.

"Goodnight, Jesse."

Most of the morning was spent packing.

Luckily I left most of my belongings in my suitcase, so packing was a breeze. I got up around four in the morning to start putting all my toiletries, the extra clothes lying around, my electronics, and any other little souvenirs I bought while here in my bag. It was a miracle it all even fit. Hopefully the airline wouldn't charge me more for carrying the weight of an extra person in my luggage. To make sure I had everything, I scanned the entire suite minus Jesse's bedroom for anything I might have missed before going back to get changed. I decided on wearing just a plain pair of denim jeans with a red plaid button-up; there wasn't really a point to dress fancy on an airplane when you were going to sit on it for eight or nine whole hours. It just wasn't worth it.

"Jess, you ready?" I called once I began rolling out the two bags I had. One was the actual rolling luggage while my carry-on bag perched itself on top. In an instant, Jesse came rushing out with his overly-large duffle bag and another small bag full of god knows what, maybe another cat he secretly bought while we were filming here.

"I think I have everything. Do you?"

"I think so," I replied. My arm stretched out in the direction of the door with my palm facing up. "After you."

"Thanks." Slinging his back over his shoulder, Jesse started on his way to the door; he was even kind enough to hold it open for me with my big pounds of luggage. I felt almost feminine, having so much stuff with me, but the travel back to England was a much harder trip than a trip around the US. I sort of packed everything only to make sure I had everything.

We took the same cab, but neither of us really talked. It was only about 4:45 in the morning when we reached the airport, so both of us were really groggy, but I had a notion that both of us were just sort of in the midst of our own thoughts. It didn't take too long to get to the airport, but honestly it felt like five seconds had passed and – boom! – we were there.

I helped the cab driver take out our luggage and handed him the cash before rolling my bag with Jesse at my side. By the time we walked through the revolving doors, we were both stumped on where to go. I almost contemplated on simply leaving with Jesse so I wouldn't get lost.

"My airline is all the way down there and yours is in the opposite direction," Jesse finally piped up, though his voice was heavy with sadness. Of course our airlines would be light years away from one another. Leave it to fate to make things harder.

"I suppose that means we should part ways then, huh?"

It was a question neither of us wished to answer.

Cautiously placing his duffle bag to the floor, Jesse tried to keep his face stone-like as he came in and lightly put his arms around me in an embrace. Although I was stunned by the gesture, I was also very grateful that I could hold him. Wrapping my arms around the shorter man, I held him close to me and memorized the scent of his hair and the feeling of his body close to mine. Quite honestly, I didn't want to let go. In the back of my mind, neither did he.

After holding one another for quite some time, I heard him sniff and start to let go. "You stay safe on that plane for me, okay, Andrew?"

Smiling, I held him for a second longer before letting go. "You know I will. Hey, it's only three months. It'll go by like that." I snapped my fingers for emphasis.

Still, my words did not seem to comfort him. Nodding, Jesse awkwardly picked up his back and pushed out a sigh. "See you, then."

And all I could do now was stand with my luggage and my carry on and watch him walk away and out of my life for three months. I tried my best to take that moment and memorize everything, anything I could to give me the slightest bit of comfort in all of this. I needed to know he was going to be okay on that plane and that all of this press that I was sure the movie would get wouldn't drive him insane.

Once he was out of sight and blended in with the line waiting to confirm their boarding passes, I took that as the hint to start moving on. The line for my airline wasn't too long – I couldn't imagine many English to be here on a Tuesday, but my mind wasn't on the tickets. Every so often, my eyes would glance back to see if I could catch a glimpse, but he was long gone by now. They weighed my bags, handed me my ticket, and sent me on my way. Shouldering my carry on, I ascended upon the escalator to take me to security and my gate where I would soon be on board a flight back to England. Still, I couldn't get Jesse out of my mind.

Three months wouldn't be that long, right?

Even I was beginning to even doubt that.


	4. Blossoming

**Part Four: Blossoming**

September.

It had been ten months.

Filming for The Social Network had ended around the beginning of December, give or take a few days. When they decided they didn't need us anymore, they booked the remainder of the cast still near the studio a flight back home while they did all the technical work on their own. The last time I had ever seen Jesse was the morning I went on a plane to England and he to New York City to go home to his family. Not surprisingly, it was one of the longest flights I ever had to endure. I swear I must've gone through my collection of Arcade Fire at least a dozen times. No matter how much I love them, listening to _Wake Up_ on repeat could actually get old after hearing it about twenty-six times with nothing else to do.

Bending down, my hand reached to grab my carry-on bag stowed beneath the seat in front of me. Picking it up and lightly placing it on my lap, I yawned silently and started to unzip. I didn't need to worry about waking up the man beside me; he was already in an extremely deep sleep. I don't even think us crashing or a mariachi band in his face would have disturbed his slumber.

After pushing an extra day of clothes aside – once, Jesse advised me that luggage could always be lost, so be prepared for everything and anything – I finally found a book I had been meaning to dive into called _Patrimony_ by Philip Roth. To be quite honest, I only wanted to read it because Jesse had raved about it, over and over, and four hours into the plane ride, I was already homesick, so I figured why not.

However, something lime green was stuck on the front; with my brows scrunched in concentration, I carefully pulled out the novel, only to discover that the object planted on my book was a sticky-note.

It read:

_Alright, so I was a little more than thrilled to see this on your dresser earlier in the week when it was still in the bag. I just hope my taste in literature doesn__'__t let you down. Geez, you can__'__t fit much on a post-it note. Well, enjoy it. There won__'__t be a moment where I don__'__t miss you, Andrew, honest. I think I might miss you even more than my cats__…__ don__'__t tell them I said that._

_- Jesse_

I could feel my throat closing up and the back of my eyes stirring with emotion, but I simply left the sticky note on the cover and ran my thumb over the pen marks. Not seeing him was going to be the hardest task of all, but I was determined to keep in touch with him, even if it meant begging him to get a webcam for his laptop that he rarely uses.

Managing to pull a shaky breath inward, I opened the cover and began to read the first chapter. In my head, I read it in a way Jesse would have read it to me, and for now, everything was okay.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Jesse?"

"This is he."

"It's Andrew," I breathed out with my heart barely stable in my chest.

This was the first time I managed to call Jesse without having a near spastic attack because I was so damn excited to phone him. Two months had passed since the flight back to England and time had consumed me more than I had ever anticipated it to. I was planning on sulking and watching television the whole time, but there was barely any time to actually sit around. Shannon wound up surprising me two weeks after I had gotten home, so you can imagine that I spent loads of time with her. She felt like we needed to 'reconnect' and rekindle our relationship after it had been slightly severed from our projects, and don't get me wrong, I missed her, too, but what we once had… I wasn't really sure. Something was missing and I couldn't put my finger on what. In addition to Shannon, I spent a ton of time with my family to make up the past months of filming. Now I finally had a chance to sit down and call Jesse.

Of course, calling him alone was scary enough. It had been almost two months since I returned his calls; apparently he had called the week after the flight and the week after that, but I wound up losing track of time. I was half convinced that calling him back a month and a half later was a really bad idea. What if he didn't even want to speak to me anymore? I could certainly understand why he wouldn't. I would be mad at me, too.

Still, I needed to try.

Waiting for his answer, I heard a slight crinkle before his voice wavered. "Andrew?"

"Yeah, mate, it's me." My heart was nearly in my throat. "How're you?"

"I… I'm alright, I guess, I just got done feeding my cats- Wait, isn't it late for you there?"

"The time on the clock says three in the morning."

"And you're still _calling_ me?"

The innocence in his voice made a goofy smile appear on my face. "Of course I'm still calling you. It's not like I have a bloody bedtime."

"I know, but it's late," he replied. "How have you been? I was starting to get… to get worried that something happened to you."

"I've been…" Trailing off, I sighed heavily and pressed the phone closer to my ear, desperate to get closer to him. "I've been really busy, Jesse, and before we talk anymore, _if _we talk anymore-"

"What do you mean _if_?" Jesse interrupted in a very jittery voice.

Confused, I slowly pleaded my case. "Well, Jess, I haven't exactly called you like I should have the past two months."

"But you've been busy."

"That's still no excuse to not call you, I promised."

"I'm just happy to hear you now," he argued with a light huff of air. "It's really… really nice to hear you, Andrew. Um, have you heard anything about the film?"

"Not really. Hey- I, uh, I auditioned for something." I swear, I could feel him pull that quizzical on his face.

"Auditioned?"

"Yeah."

"For a movie?"

"Yup."

"What one?"

Yeah, 'what one' was definitely the question to ask. Taking in a deep breath, I tried to keep from smiling too hard. Pacing back and forth in my bedroom, I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head. "I actually went out and auditioned for the new Spiderman installment."

"Sp- Spiderman?" Jesse asked incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"As serious as I will ever be, Jesse."

Silence took over his end, but then he started _laughing_. "You would be a great Spiderman."

That was the _last_ thing I had expected from him. My head even reared backwards, stunned. "Seriously, me, a superhero?"

"Well, why not, you have the charisma of a superhero and I wouldn't be surprised if you have the physique for it, either," he reasoned bluntly.

Grinning, I let out a small chuckle and nodded, not like he could see it anyway, but it made no difference. "I'm glad you think that."

We went on for hours as usual about things that didn't matter, things that did, things that made absolutely no sense, serious things, sad things, anything that came to mind. It wasn't uncommon for us to spend an entire night conversing. A couple of times I even fell asleep and woke up to Jesse questioning a cat on the other line. There was no other way I would want to wake up.

Jesse and I talked a couple times on the phone after that, but, you could say, we were starting to experience 'long-distance relationship' problems. No matter how many times talking was planned, it was extremely hard to catch one another for calls that lasted more than five minutes. A convenient time for me meant an unreachable time for him and vice versa. As time went on, our calls became less and less frequent to the point where there was no call exchange at all.

Without Jesse, you can imagine, was hard. I had everyone in the world, really, at my side, but it wasn't the same. At the most populated times, I felt like I had nothing. Every day it got a little easier, not seeing or hearing from him. After a while, the painful ache in my chest whenever something reminded me of him went dull; the things that once triggered memories were not as prominent in my life. I tried keeping myself busy by hanging out with friends, visiting family functions, anything I could think of to keep my mind occupied. Still, there were those moments where I couldn't handle pretending.

A knock on the door woke me up from the couch one night. Despite being half asleep, I managed to crawl off the couch and drag my body to the door. Peeking through the peephole, I woke up in an instant, undid the lock, and opened the door with one hand while the other hand rubbed the sleep from my eye.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it over sooner, Andrew. I got your text when I was grocery shopping and- were you asleep?" the voice asked. Attempting to smile, I shook my head in disbelief. Of course she would be all dressed up for grocery shopping. If there was one person in the universe who always looked like a pixie princess, even when doing the boring deeds of everyday life, it was Carey.

"Sorry, I was busy and tired so I feel asleep," I reasoned and took a step behind the door, subconsciously inviting her in. Carey smiled, rolled her eyes, and took a step inside.

"Sure looks like you were busy. When's the last time you cleaned this bloody house?" she teased before leaning in to pull me into a hug. Gladly, I reciprocated the gesture, but what I hadn't realized was the grip I had holding her back. "God Andrew, are you trying to crush me?"

Sheepishly, I took note of my roughness and carefully let her go. "Sorry, guess I just missed you a lot."

There was no point in trying to fool Carey. She watched me, her face playfully skeptic yet serious all the same. She believed otherwise. "No, there's something else bothering you, Drew. C'mon, let's put on some tea and you can tell me what's going on."

"Carey, nothing's going on," I reassured her as I disappeared into my kitchen to put on some hot water. "Am I not allowed to miss you?"

"Well, no, but it's evident. You miss someone else, it's in the way you said it," she countered, catching me while she walked behind me to follow suit. "Have you and Shannon been alright?"

"We've been ace, Carey, really, nothing is wrong."

"But there is and you won't tell me," She interrupted in a soft yet pleading voice. I heard a scuffle on the floor from her heels before feeling a hand on my shoulder. "What is it, Andrew? You know you can trust me."

"I know."

"With anything."

"I know."

"I will listen."

I said nothing. The poor kettle in my fist was probably about ready to shatter with the iron-clad grip I squeezed it with. Carey was silent, waiting for my answer, until I heard a sympathetic murmur.

"It's Jesse, isn't it?"

Her question came out more as a statement, like there was no swaying her, and all I could do was nod, very slowly. Her hand left my shoulder, but instead of leavening me, it lightly patted my hand, now white-knuckled, holding the kettle. "C'mon, darling, let's go sit down and we can forget the tea."

Unable to fight her, I allowed her to navigate me through my kitchen to the living room. Both of us sat on my couch, though I had forgotten I even sat down in the first place until she started speaking again. Her hand was lightly running over my back in an attempt to comfort me, but there was no use. My body was numb and in a totally different dimension.

"When's the last time you've talked to him, love?"

"Four months," I muttered. "It's been four months."

"And no call?"

"No call."

"Not even a text?"

"He doesn't own an international phone."

"I think you need to call him if it's that bad, love."

"Jesse would have called if he wanted to talk."

Carey stopped rubbing my back and looked me in the eye. "Now you and I both know that isn't true." The look in her eye told me something else was going to be brought up.

"What?"

"You… this isn't just a friendship, is it?"

I swallowed the rock lodged in my throat. This was the one question I had been asking myself for a very, very long time now, though it tortured me to think too long about it. Questioning my feelings for Jesse was almost absurd, almost inappropriate. How could anyone seriously wonder if their friendship with a co-star was anything more, especially in our circumstances, in mine? Jesse had wound up becoming my best friend on-screen and off, someone I could always talk to and count on. I was never bored of him, and fighting was a rarity. Weren't they standard policies for the concept of a best friend, though? At most, we could – oh, god, I _hated_ thinking about this term – be considered a 'bromance', but anything more than that…

"I don't know what you're talking about," I responded after a pause. To my dismay, Carey remained still and intent on an answer.

A beat passed. "Andrew."

"What?"

"Look at me."

Sighing, annoyed, I craned my neck to obey her command. As if on cue, her eyebrow rose accusingly. The _are-you-kidding-me_ expression on her face only forced me to continue wearing my poker face.

"Are you in love with him?"

"Are you seriously asking me thi—"

"Are you in love with Jesse?"

"Carey, you sound crazy," I reasoned, though my voice left me shaken for a second. Starting to get anxious, I leaped up from the couch and shoved my hands in my jean pockets as I started to pace back and forth behind the glass coffee table. "Why would I be in love with him? He's my best friend, for Christ sakes."

"Because you haven't denied it yet." Her eyes followed me from the couch and she stared at me, hard. Her reasoning had caught me off guard and my pacing stopped. Turning to face her, my eyes betrayed me; I must've looked like a deer caught in headlights. I could have sworn my heart stopped beating for a moment. When she knew she had my full attention, she continued in a soft voice. "If you didn't love him, you would have flat out told me no, but you decided to argue with me. Instead of denying it to me, you're denying it to yourself."

Something inside of me was screaming to be let out. Somehow I felt numb and, at the same time, I felt a surge of fear hit me. I didn't deny it. When she asked me a simple yes or no question, I went on a tangent of things that meant nothing instead of actually answering the question. Going over the last minute in my head, I replayed my responses and quickly a sense of dread overwhelmed me. I couldn't handle this. So I wondered if Jesse and I had something… _special_… but this was the first time I ever let a different question process through:

Was I in love with Jesse?

"I'd rather not talk about this, Carey," I whispered. My eyes were glued to the floor, and I felt more uncomfortable in my own shoes than ever. Clearly her intention was not to upset me, but her words continued to echo through my head. You didn't deny it.

"Andrew—"

"Carey, I don't… Can you please just go?" I quietly asked. With my head still facing the floor, I took in a deep breath and decided to man up and look her in the eye. I immediately regretted doing so. She was still sitting on my couch, her face sad and mouth open like she was about to say something to convince me to let her stay. Even she knew that she crossed a line I hadn't even thought of drawing yet.

"I'm sorry, Andrew, I didn't mean to…" Trailing off, she knew not of what to say, so she simply nodded and smiled sympathetically towards me. "Yeah, I'll go now."

Hesitantly standing up from the couch, Carey smoothed out her dress and fixed her hair before walking around the table to give me a goodbye hug. Because my head was on another cloud, I barely hugged back and didn't even really notice she was gone until my door slammed shut, leaving me in my living room alone with the most puzzled look on my face.

With a gate of a zombie, I moved to my bathroom and pulled the 'cold' sink handle towards me to get the water going. I splashed a bit against my face, cooling my mind, but then I took note of my reflection prior to patting my face dry. I never denied it, not for one second. Gazing off to the side, my palms took hold of either side of the sink, and I leaned against it for dear life. Not that I felt sick or anything, but I was so freaking confused as I contemplated Carey's argument. Missing your best friend was normal, wanting to do everything for them was normal, but was what I felt for Jesse normal?

My mind was made up:

I needed to see him.

* * *

The date was July 2, 2010.

In my hand was a ticket for a six a.m. flight to New York City. Everything was planned, packed up and ready to go. After a week or so of contemplating Carey's idea, I decided to take it to the next level. There was always that option of calling him, but that wasn't a sincere enough apology. Instead of calling, I came to the conclusion that the only way to cure this was to see him, face to face, as fast as possible. The way to cure that was to take the first plane I could find to New York.

The smart thing would have been to tell Jesse that I was coming so he didn't freak out if his home wasn't cleaned up, but I was too wrapped up in the idea of surprising him that I never took it into consideration. I told a few friends, like Carey, and they all swore it was a terribly impulsive idea, but I was on top of the world. All that mattered was seeing him. The hotel was already booked and all my best clothes were in my luggage. My carry-on bag was still in question and totally empty, but everything I was bringing on the plane was already set up besides it; all I needed to do was organize.

My iPod was charging on the alarm stand as I was busy skimming through _Patrimony _when my phone buzzed loudly against the wooden nightstand by my bed. Hesitantly, I picked it up and tilted the screen to see who was calling. "Magneto" was the title of the caller- oh, I named my agent Magneto on my phone after a conversation I had overheard one day. It was an on-going joke, I guess, with myself.

Tossing the cellular device up in the air, I caught it, pressed 'Accept' and leaned back in bed with the phone against my ear. "Hello?"

"Andrew, you got it."

Well, that sure was specific. "Got what?"

"You. Congrats, kiddo, you're Peter Parker. You're the new Spiderman."

I practically vomited out of pure alarm. "I- I _what?_"

"Well, don't act too excited so quickly," he teased with a chuckle.

I was at a loss, a complete and utter loss, for words. For a second there I forgot that I even had lungs and how to breathe. My hand practically crushed my phone from trying to grasp onto the concept that _I got the part_. I got the role of a lifetime, _I_ was Spiderman.

"Andrew?" A voice called to bring me back to earth.

"Yeah? Oh, uh, sorry, wow, I don't know what to say."

"Well, you better get ready for the press, that's what you should do. They want interviews pronto," he told me. "In the States, people are going nuts about this announcement; they want to see the new face representing their masked wonder." I could feel my palms grow sweaty. "When the earliest you can get to LA? Entertainment Weekly wants to interview you tomorrow."

Tomorrow? My eyes stared down at the plane ticket still resting my other hand limp on the sheets. If he meant tomorrow, that would mean I would have to get on a plane in a couple of hours to get to LA in time to be well rested for the interview. That only meant…

"I… I sort of had plans already to go to New York for a week, I already bought the tickets, are they really going that crazy? Can't… Can't they pick another date rather than tomo—"

"You're kidding me, right? Andrew, this is _huge_ for you. Whatever is in New York can wait and you know it. This is a role of a lifetime; you are going to be the newest face for one of the most iconic superheroes in history. Please tell me you're not already passing it up." He sighed. "Do you know how that's going to look?"

Still, my eyes stared down at the plane ticket in my hand. There was my ticket to everything I wanted, to seeing him, but now there was no way I could. My impulsive, _you-can't-stop-me_ ride had skid to an abrupt halt, and I swallowed with regret. Duty called, and I couldn't back out of this, no matter how much I missed Jesse. Biting my lower lip, my hand slowly clamped around the ticket, crumpling it down to nothing.

"So?"

"I'll change my flight as soon as possible," I murmured in the phone, only to hang up and toss my phone away from me before he could answer. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I bent my elbows and leaned my head in frustration into my hands. This was supposed to be a happy moment, something that I would be proud of, but I could barely think of anything else. Calling him and telling him what I was going to do would have only made it worse for both of us; I was sure, so I refused to call. Instead, I picked the phone back up, and spent an hour changing my flight to Los Angeles in a couple of hours rather than New York. I felt on-edge now as I realized that now instead of appearing anonymously at Jesse's house, I would now be in front of thousands of fans of a comic book series to tell them that I was their new face. It was the most mind-numbing thought I had ever encountered.

Once the call was done, I dropped it beside me and picked up the Roth book once more and flipped through a couple of pages. I blinked out the angry tears threatening to spill out as I attempted to read the words, but they came out in my head as mere shouts of rage.

I should have left sooner.

Then again, I should have done a lot I didn't do.

* * *

The next three months had been dominated by web-slinging publicity.

Yet, through the celebrations, the readings, and the overtime in shooting, a bigger picture was looming over me: The Social Network was going to be premiering. In fact, the movie premiere was in less than twenty-four hours, and, needless to say, I was more than ecstatic. I had only seen the full preview once, I couldn't believe how great it looked on screen, and I was so busy with all the Spiderman business that I never had time to actually pay attention to the latest news in anything else. My co-star, Emma, though, was pretty up-to-date and would lightly make comment on the buzz she saw in the internet. Plus, she was not only my co-star, but she was once Jesse's, so I guess… well, this is how she put it:

"Basically, I'm in the movie, too," Emma said one time we were off the set next to her trailer eating some Chinese.

"You're _in_ it?" I repeated in a muffled voice as I ate and picked around with my chopsticks.

"Well, yeah, I mean, I've starred with you and I've starred with freaking Zuckerberg, so technically I'm a part of this film, too. I think Mr. Fincher should put my name on it somewhere." Her hands raised above her face as she wiped the air with them. _"Special appearance by Emma Stone, the one who starred with both goobers in two totally different films."_

"Technically they're both action," I teased with a smirk.

Emma made a face and shrugged. "Yeah, well, I kinda just wanted my name at the end. It would be a major ego-boost if people actually built up a controversy saying I really wasn't there, but I can dream, can't I?"

"You're insane is what you are." Laughing, I tilted my head back and allowed the noodles to drop into my mouth.

"It's better than being boring," she countered, but smiled and went back to eating.

Yet, today was the day. Not just any day, but _the_ day that I would finally get to see my co-stars again and see my work. The Social Network was premiering on the twenty-fourth of September, and I was busy scrambling around to get ready after my tiring flight to New York. I had spent most of the day in my hotel room, preparing for this night. Every so often I texted Emma and she sent back stupid premiere trivia facts, like what went wrong on some nights or wacky pictures of wardrobe malfunction. Apparently_ Dolce & Gabbana _had been a 'suburb' choice, or so she thought. I had actually invited her along with Shannon, but she said she had a date with Dawson's Creek tonight, but to give Jesse love and support. My heart nearly leaped into my throat at the name. It wasn't long before I'd see him.

Once it was time to hop into the car, I quickly rushed in from my hotel room and waited in the backseat. I was completely content with sitting in the passenger seat, of course, but I got yelled at by assigned driver in a language I didn't understand and awkwardly shuffled to the back. Well, welcome to New York, I guess.

I couldn't tell you how much my knee jumped around like a possessed entity around the back seat of the car. My eyes were glancing at scattered buildings behind the glass, but I took no comfort in the soft, elevator-like music the driver was playing. Neither of us spoke the entire trip; that or I never heard him speak since I was so far off in my own little world. Constantly, my head came up with different scenarios. Would Jesse be even happy to see me there? God, I hoped so. The other scenario made my stomach lurch in pure fear; there was always that possibility that he could just ignore my existence and claim we weren't friends anymore because of my neglect. The very thought of it made my heart break.

Still, it was now or never when the car came to a sudden halt and the flashing of lights nearly blinded me even with the tinted windows.

"We are here," he announced. "Enjoy, Mr. Garfield."

Offering a light but nervous smile, I nodded to the rear view mirror. "Thanks." And with that, I opened the car door and stepped out to a blinding set of flashing lights aiming right at me. I heard several shouts of my name, and I simply shoved my hand in my pocket and started walking over to where my agent was. Alright, pictures were dazzling, but I was on a mission.

"Well, damn, don't you look great," my agent complimented once I finally reached him on the carpet. Several interviewers were screaming my name while the flashes still went, but my eyes were looking elsewhere.

"Thanks."

"C'mon, turn around." Obeying, I took my hand out of my pocket and stood in front of the cameras, allowing them to get their quick seconds of shots before I felt a tap on my shoulder. I swear, I won't be able to see a bloody thing when I'm about sixty years old.

"Where is he?" I immediately asked once we started walking.

"Where's who?" He asked, confused. Sitting here asking him, though, was wasting time. Moving past him, I lightly placed a hand on his shoulder before striding forward to search around. I skipped the majority of the cameras – it's not like they wouldn't have more group photos on a later date – and snaked my way through the swarms of people crowding around the doors. I turned to look back since I was afraid that I had missed him, but I could hear that oh, so familiar voice a mere few feet in front of me.

"…oh, well, you know, this is exciting and all since I can go home after this and just spend time with my cats, but overall this experience so far has been absolutely exhilarating and, uh, fun."

I could barely contain myself; standing here, waiting for him to finish his interview was probably one of the hardest things I was ever forced to do. I couldn't see him yet, but I knew he was somewhere close, so I continued to push through the heavy masses for just that one chance to get a glimpse of him.

That's when the curly mop of hair came into view and I immediately went for it.

With several 'excuse me's and pardons flowing from my mouth like a broken record player, I weaved in and out through the crowds until I could actually see his _face_. He looked amazing in that suit and tie; it nearly left me breathless and I could feel my eyes playing a game of tug o' war with my tear ducts. He was just about to leave the interviewer, shaking their hand and thanking them back, when he turned in my direction and casually looked about the crowd. I stared in awe with my jaw slightly ajar. As his eyes scanned lazily through the masses, his eyes locked on mine before simply passing them, but then his head whipped back and his eyes were totally stuck on mine. A look of complete shock had overcome his face, and I felt the urge to break out into a sprint and hold him in my arms. Yet, I stood there, silently begging for a subconscious approval. At first he did nothing, but soon, a smile began to creep onto his face, sealing my fate. I broke out into stride to get to him, and he, too, started walking at a faster pace backwards on the carpet towards me. My heart was running in its own race and my hands were practically breaking out into an anxious sweat, but three, two, one more step and-

Without hesitation, I felt arms wrap around me, and I reciprocated the gesture whole-heartedly. My grip could have probably crushed his entire torso, but he didn't complain and, instead, hugged me harder. The press was busy looking at other scenes, it seemed, because the moment was one of the most intimate memories of my life. I felt like the world only revolved around Jesse and I, holding one another close, enjoying each other like old times. The way this moment had turned out was much better than I could have ever expected; it literally took everything in me not to cry in his hair, which I gingerly laid my head upon as I took in his scent, _god_, that scent I could never get enough of and missed so dearly.

"Is that really you?" I squeaked as I impulsively ran a hand through his hair, unable to keep myself from not doing it. Luckily for me, people were busy catching other stars attending the premiere to pay attention to my reunion with Jesse.

Jesse sort of let out a tiny laugh and pulled away from me, his eyes shining. This was so much better than I had ever anticipated this to be. It took everything in me not to lightly run my hand over his face, just to make sure I wasn't in some sort of surreal dream. I made myself look like a crazy maniac, but I was so blinded by so much happiness that I didn't even notice. My arms fell from him, but my gaze said everything, all my emotions, just everything I was ever feeling at that moment in time.

"Yeah, surprisingly, it is me in one piece," he joked. His smile got weaker as he contemplated whether or not that was even funny to joke about.

Shaking my head, I noticed the smile plastered on my face was beginning to really ache. "Jesse, wow, I am just… Can we go off to the side for a minute?"

"Sure, sure," I quickly responded. Before leaving, though, I looked back out at the crowd to make sure no wandering eyes were following. Luckily Armie was giving them a show with his wife by pulling off James Bond poses and being the charming man that he was that the media was all over him. I'd have to thank him later for distracting them. Easily, we slipped away into the building and off to a hallway that seemed to be deserted. When he stopped, I took a moment to look back; there was no way you could see us from the end of the hall, so mentally, we were alone.

"Andrew—"

"Jesse, I'm so sorry," I blurted out, totally disregarding whatever he was about to say. He seemed confused, like he hadn't expected an apology, so I kept going. "I should have come to see you, like I promised. I promised that I would come and visit you and I screwed up, immensely, and I can't take that time back, but you have to believe me when I say I am so very unbelievably sorry for not being a good enough friend."

When he said nothing and merely stared with a blank expression, I began to feel it was too late. Swallowing my fears, I nodded and bit my lower lip. If it were me, I guess apologies a half a year later, too, would be unforgivable. "I really am sorry, Jesse. I, um, I got you this."

I fumbled through my suit jacket pockets before finding the little slip of paper that had been pressed out from crumpling it on an earlier date. The piece of paper was the British Airways ticket that read "TO: NEW YORK CITY", the one I had originally schedule for July 2. Smoothing it out with my shaking hand, I held it out for him to see. Jesse, who didn't really do much at all, simply leaned forward a bit, his eyes widening as he read through the text on the ticket.

"I bought a plane ticket, to see you, in July. It was supposed to be a surprise," I narrated, stammering every few words. Letting a shaken breath pass my lips, I explained further. "I got busy, y'know? And, and, and I tried really hard to come see you and to call but then something would always come up. So, so I made myself go online and purchase a ticket to New York to surprise you. I know you hate surprises and I know you're not a big fan of random visits because you're paranoid about coming to the door or whatever, but I really needed to see you and I figured if you didn't know I was coming you would forgive me more, but now as I say my ridiculous logic out loud it seems like such a bloody awful idea."

Jesse still said nothing, but he lightly took the ticket from my hand to examine it more closely. "You bought this to see me?" His eyes never left the slip of paper.

"Yeah, but then I got the call—"

"—to be Spiderman," he finished for me. Finally, his eyes lifted to lock onto mine, glassy and absolutely surprised, and my heart nearly skipped a beat.

"I'm so sorry, Jesse," I managed to croak, my own eyes now filling up with tears at the very sight of him standing there with that plane ticket that had meant so much to me in the summer. "I really am, truly, incredibly s—"

But a pair of arms engulfed my body. The hold was nearly constricting my airways, but when I looked down to see the mop of curls in my face, I was pretty content with my face turning blue. Reciprocating the hug, I held him close and slightly swayed, burying my face in his hair.

"I missed you, and you don't need to apologize for anything, just as long as you're here now and you don't go anywhere," he said, his voice muffled as his face pressed against my chest.

Breathing out in relief, I sniffed and nodded, biting my lower lip to keep from crying. "I'm not going anywhere, mate, promise."

What I didn't hear from the end of the hall automatically, though, were feet stepping away from us, a halt, and then steps coming towards us. Both of us practically jumped out of our skin from the surprise of another voice chiming in.

"Jesse, we have to start going inside no—Oh."

The two of us leaped off one another when the other person came into play, and we both played it off entirely too awkwardly, but apparently Jesse already knew who it was interrupting our little moment. I was annoyed, yeah, but when I looked up to see who it was after I had smoothed out my suit, I felt a slight pang of irritation in my chest.

Jesse, too, smoothed out his suit, ran his fingers through his hair, and turned to answer the figure. "Yeah, uh, we'll be right there, Justin." And he turned to me and gave me a weak yet genuinely shy smile. My eyes were still transfixed on Justin at the far end of the hallway. His suit jacket was already missing and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, giving him a casual aura, though his face was hard and his jaw, from what I could see, was tense. Instead of looking at Jesse, he looked at me with a look of half surprise, half distaste.

On the set of The Social Network, Justin and I had played rivals, though it seemed to have bubbled over onto our real lives, as well. We were never necessarily pals on the set and he mostly kept to himself, though he did become a fan of Jesse. Jesse, being as oblivious to the world as he was at times and despite his self-proclaimed anti-social ways, was always up to talking to someone, and Justin did try, but in the end Jesse would leave to go find me. When the two were together for a day or so, Justin seemed… well, he seemed a tad possessive over Jesse, and I didn't appreciate that in the slightest. It was as though in real life we were trying to compete for Jesse's friendship, and it was a concept I could never fully grasp.

Still, he didn't wait for us to come with him and instead turned on his heel and left without us. Jesse simply shrugged and started walking; I trailed right along behind him. The crowds were already massive, so navigating them was a total bitch. I tried to remain close to Jesse's footsteps while slightly waving to random people waving at me and calling my name, never bothering to check who they were. In a delayed moment, I had realize that it didn't really matter who else was in the room; Jesse was right there, and quite honestly, that was all that truly counted.

Throughout the night, we were inseparable. To make up for the lack of time we had in nearly an entire year, I stuck by his side every minute. For the most part, he seemed composed and calm with a light and happy air about him; whatever mood he had, I seemed to receive it secondhand, leaving me in a happy-go-lucky high. Every so often, Jesse would peer back behind his shoulder; when it registered that I was still behind him, a tiny smile pushed against his lips and he continued forward. It wasn't long until we were nearly pounced on by the King of "Awesome", I suppose you would call him if you wanted to give Armie Hammer a nickname that he approved of.

"He-_ey_, Drew and Issie, my favorite men of the night!" He announced to the entire world as he grabbed me by the back first and smashed me against his chest. For those who didn't already know this, Armie Hammer was one of those guys who had one of those bodies built for a role like Superman or something a bit more intimidating, like the Incredible Hulk. He was basically designed to charm your bloody pants off, a one-hundred percent guarantee. I often questioned on the set whether or not he was a real human being; granted, we didn't talk much since neither of our characters ever really interacted, but oh, those stories got around fast. There wasn't a time where Armie didn't streak or ruin a shot with a face or prank one of the crew members into giving them a near heart attack from fright. The man was a Casanova genius.

"Hi, Armie," I mumbled, my cheeks practically squished together with the power of his bear hug. "Can you- _Canyuhgeoffame?_"

"What did you say?" Genuinely confused, he leaned down closer to get a good listen for what I was saying, but Jesse answered for me.

"I think he said to get off of him because you're incredibly high testosterone levels are crushing his very insides."

"Oh, geez, sorry, man." His arms quickly let go of me, but that wasn't the end of it. When I filled my lungs up with air, he slapped me on the back, knocking the wind right back out. "I wasn't paying attention, I'm just… I'm just _pumped_, you know? We finally get to see the finished product. C'mere, Eisenberg."

"I'm perfectly content in keeping my inner organs intact," Jesse reassured him as he took a step back.

Armie simply brushed it off and grinned. "So how are you two enjoying yourselves, huh? Is this surreal or what?"

"As surreal as it'll ever get."

"I wasn't expecting such a huge turnout," he admitted.

"Yeah, neither was I."

Armie straightened his suit and started to scan the area. "Where's Timberdork?"

"_Justin_ is busy doing some interviews before the movie starts," Jesse corrected. The way he said his name caught me off guard, like he was almost offended by Armie's silly nickname. Squinting a tad, my lips parted for a second until I ran my tongue over the bottom. I would've asked him what that was all about, but I kept the mental note to myself.

"I'm sure he is," Armie replied with a shrug. Clearing his throat, he grinned. "I do believe it's time to go find my lovely woman, wherever she may be in this building. This movie better had been edited down to a fifteen minute piece. I heard the after-party is off the hook and my bladder hasn't been doing too well lately, if you get what I mean."

Leave it to Armie to leave too much information out of the sack.

Jesse and I followed Armie and found Justin, though he was quite the loner during the party save for Jesse. Every so often, the two were sharing secrets and giggles, something that made my very being shake with envy. Perhaps this jealousy was only a minor setback since I was slowly spiraling into the mindset of "He's My Friend. Back Off". Every time Justin would lean into Jesse and he would happily reciprocate the lean, I would feel sick to my stomach, so I wound up watch Armie telling his wife to wait there as he went around the room to pop up in several photos as the background star. Why I was so jealous, I couldn't quite understand. I didn't own Jesse, for Chrissakes, he was my best friend. I tried to reason with myself that sometimes people got jealous over sharing their best friends, and that this weird attachment problem was normal.

Either way, The Social Network's premiere wound up being a fantastic night. The movie, in the end, was absolutely astounding to watch. Occasionally, my eyes would slink over to Jesse, who would respond to the feeling of someone looking at him by turning as well, and we would both smile at one another. Granted, his smile was one of embarrassment and uncertainty, but as he saw me beaming – I could see him glance out of the corner of my eye, like he was looking for any sort of approval for his monologue scenes – he, too, started grinning, and we watched the film with our arms brushing thanks to the shared armrest.

Yet, as the film started to come to a close, my smile started to fade. It was the last scene we had ever shot in a flash bit of incredibly beautiful editing that appeared upon the screen, and I could feel the lump in my throat beginning to form.

My screen-self was staring off into the distance, and I could feel my jaw tensing up at the very memory of that day. The memory, in fact, was too vivid; my eyes wound up dropping to the floor.

"_I was your only friend."_ Taking a slow breath in, my eyes managed to flicker back to the screen. I was now staring intently at screen Jesse, and the mixed emotions that led him to burst from the studio that day were prominent in his eyes. _"You had one friend."_ I think I was the only one who would ever notice this.

But then, to the side of me, I heard a slow, drawn-out breath leaving Jesse's mouth. Turning my head in alarm, my brows furrowed, confused. He merely turned slowly, but not fully to look at me, and in the shadows of the theater I saw his sad smile. In that moment, I knew we said everything without ever having to say anything at all. It was a late apology from nearly a year ago, an apology for never being there, a promise that this would never really be us, though perhaps that was going down the little more melodramatic road.

The after party was oddly entertaining thanks to Armie and Brenda for making up most of the fun. Armie and his wife were the life of the party, cracking jokes one by one, while Brenda surprised us with the follow-up jokes that sent our little clique howling. I was content with being quiet, as was Jesse, but Justin was acting like his normal, 'charming' self around the people who came up to him, praising his work in the film. Don't get me wrong, I didn't necessarily hate Justin, I had no legitimate reason to hate him, it was just that we never really clicked on the set. Plus, his touchy-feely rendezvous with Jesse didn't particularly sit well with me.

Still, the night needed to go to a close, no matter how high I felt from the fact that Jesse and I were almost completely alright with one another. At the end of the night, he called himself a cab, but he wanted me to come back with him.

"I have a spare bedroom, it would be a shame if it wasn't used," he tried to reason, though his persuasion was faulty through his stammering. I apologetically smiled back.

"Jesse, you know I can't. We have separate interviews until Monday."

"What does that have to do with having a sleepover?" he replied bluntly.

Chuckling, I shook my head and leaned against the cab door as he maneuvered himself into the car. "Because, mate, when people have sleepovers, you never sleep. I don't need us to be up watching late-night re-runs of The Nanny, alright? You go get some sleep; I'll ring you in the morning."

Reluctantly, he nodded and I shut the car door for him, only to wait for the car to disappear around the corner before hailing my own cab to take me home. Whether or not I was staying with him tonight, I felt a sense of pride swell in my chest.

The last thing I saw in Jesse's hands before he left that night was that damned plane ticket with my name on it to New York City.

* * *

Monday didn't take long to come around.

I arrived by myself, though New York was enduring a bit of a torrential downpour. With an umbrella in hand, I made sure my suit didn't get wet as I rushed out from the cab to the building. Today I wore a navy suit with a pink button-up underneath. The interview was for Buzzline and was intended for mainly video-enabled sites like YouTube. The movie was due to be out in theaters in only several days now, so I was expected to be giving interviews like no tomorrow. This one in particular only asked for Jesse, Justin, and myself, so I would only hope that we would all either be grouped together, set alone, or… no, I'd rather it be one or the other.

In the lobby, Jesse stood in his blue button-up and a pair of khakis and Justin, without glasses, in semi-plaid patterned blue button-up, a gray tie, and some gray pants to match. For once, Jesse was pacing around with a spring in his step, which was not something I was used to. Whenever it came to interviews, Jesse was always charming and hilarious in his own way, but beforehand he was a wreck. This time, however, he seemed almost thrilled to be awaiting an interview.

"Andrew!" he exclaimed the minute I walked through the revolving doors. Pausing his pacing, he walked over to me and brought me into a light hug; Justin, clearly not as excited as Jesse, shoved his hands into his pants pocket and took careful steps towards the two of us.

"Took you long enough to get here," Justin greeted. Although his voice was playful, I felt an undertone of condescension strategically woven through it. My attention snapped to him, but instead of calling him out in front of Jesse, who seemed entirely too in-the-clouds to notice, I gave him a small smile back.

"Yeah, well, there's a lot of traffic in New York City at this hour, Justin." Tilting my head to the side, I continued to match his satirical tone. "I'm surprised you're here so early, you're normally fashionably late."

"I hitched a ride with Jesse. We wound up coming to New York together so we're in the same hotel complex," he explained flatly.

I felt a twinge of confusion and looked at Jesse. "Oh, uh, Jesse, you're not staying at your house?"

"Justin said it would have been better if I didn't."

"But why?"

"Because—"

"Because I told him with how the paparazzi will be following him in the next few months, it may be in his best interests not to let them follow him home," Justin informed me, cutting off Jesse entirely. I felt a surge of rage build up inside. First of all, cutting him off when he was talking to make was _not_ a smart idea, but knowing he was instilling fear in Jesse about the paparazzi pissed me off to the nth degree.

"Is that so?" I asked flatly. For a moment we were all silent with Jesse staring back and forth between me and Justin as we stared at one another and sent mixed subconscious messages. I felt angry, so very angry, that he was manipulating Jesse the way he was and I was definitely going to bring it up after the interview. "I suppose you would know a thing or two about paparazzi, Justin. Are you two sharing a room or—?"

"A suite, actually. Four bedrooms, seven bathrooms, Jacuzzis, everything you could possibly want," Justin replied with a grin and a short nod. My brow rose, unimpressed with the materialistic boasts.

"Wow, Justin, one would have figured you were taking the role of Sean Parker a bit too seriously, now wouldn't they?" I retorted, but before a war of words could erupt, a young woman in a cute little black business suit came towards us. Jesse had been relatively silent yet entirely confused by the hidden hostility in our voices. I only knew because when we were called upon, I fixed my jacket and took a moment to glance down at him, only to see him staring back with doe-like eyes. Immediately I smiled back apologetically, though I wasn't going to actually apologize for anything.

"Mr. Eisenberg, Mr. Garfield, and Mr. Timberlake?" she called, and we all stood up a little straighter and put on our show smiles. She flashed a polite yet blindingly fake smile back and pulled out a clipboard with a few papers attached to it. For a moment she gazed down, memorizing whatever was typed, and looked up again with a much more mischievous gaze. "Well, aren't you all looking dashing? You don't always get genuinely handsome men around here; they're all usually big fakers."

"As dashing as men will ever get," Justin replied sweetly and cleared his throat. "We're here for an interview, though, so would you mind escorting us to whatever floor this will be taking place on? We're on a tight schedule."

The woman, stunned and defeated, simply held the clipboard closer to her chest – which, mind you, was missing a few buttons, which was way beyond being classy – and nodded quickly. "This way, if you'll follow me."

The three of us followed her in a single-file line, Justin being the leader of said formation. The woman went through the information on the clipboard explaining what was going to go on. To my surprise – and my dismay – Jesse was going to be interviewed on his own, leaving Justin and me to make a duo team on the camera. I knew there was going to be a battle subconsciously, but I left that smug smile on my face and nodded to everything she was spewing out. I was under the impression that we'd all be together or separated, not oddly grouped. Obviously they wanted to hear what Jesse had to say the most seeing as everyone knew Mark Zuckerberg rather than the other characters.

However, I wasn't the only one thinking this; I was just better at hiding it. The very thought of being alone seemed to thoroughly worry Jesse, but once the woman left to go find the hair and makeup team, we stood in silence until Jesse shuffled over to me.

"I was under the impression we were all together," he explained in a manic manner. "What am I supposed to say?"

The question caught me off guard. Hesitating, I gave a short chuckle. "You talk about the movie, Jesse."

However, that only set him off farther. "But you know I ramble. I ramble and ramble and sometimes I never notice until someone comments about it. Then I start to ramble on and on about how sorry I am. This interview is only the real beginning of them, and- and there's a lot of stuff that's going to be put on the internet about this and—"

"Jesse."

"Andrew." His hands reached out and touched my forearms, causing me to stare with large, worried eyes. Alright, so this was truly bothering him if he felt he needed to resort to physical contact to get his point across. His eyes pleadingly stared up. "You know I ramble, okay, and I talk about my cats, a lot."

"So then talk about your cats," I said and sighed. "Jesse, you don't need to be someone that isn't you just because this movie is being buzzed about."

"They're saying it may already be considered for an Oscar nomination," he responded anxiously. His voice was barely above a whisper. "It's—It's a lot different than a just a regular interview, Drew. I can't be a freak."

"Jess."

"You know I hate when I'm called that."

"Jesse," I corrected myself with a sigh of frustration. "Look at me in the eye." He defied me and looked the opposite direction. "Jesse, c'mon. Look at me."

Reluctantly, he glanced up; I fought the urge to pull him to me. He looked ashamed of what he had to offer, and it hurt me to know his rambling was what I loved most about him and yet he discarded it like it was a sin. Or maybe it was his insecurities or his bravery, or the fact that somehow he managed to make me worried, enough to make me sick to my stomach, about him. I fought the urges so much that my hand nearly twitched in need to place its palm against his face. Taking a step closer, I closed the gap between us and leaned down, my lips centimeters from his ear.

"Just act like you're talking to me," I whispered in his ear.

"But we talk about everything and they won't appreciate me explaining the science behind certain fiction novels," he reasoned. Still, he paused, huffed out in defeat, and nodded. I could feel his hair tickle the side of my face. "I still have the plane ticket you gave me. I—It's in my pocket." Taking a moment, he seemed to be figuring out how to word what he was saying correctly. "I sort of thought if I had this on me, it would give me good luck."

"Good luck?" I asked incredulously. My eyebrows rose. "My plane ticket?"

"It's just t—that it's from you and obviously it meant a lot if you carried it all the way here, so now it means a lot to me. It's given me luck in my other interviews; I mean I didn't vomit like I had anticipated to." His voice was so meek and uncertain that my heart soared. Gingerly he pulled out the ticket, neatly folded, from his pocket to prove he wasn't lying. A smile broke out on my face and it contagiously spread to him.

"You'll be brilliant, mate," I softly reassured.

"Mr. Eisenberg?" A voice cut our conversation short, causing Jesse to quickly shove the ticket in his pocket before nodding in acknowledgement. I took a few steps away and took a moment to glance at Justi; he, too, was staring back, but with a look of disdain. "We're ready for you in the makeup room. Mr. Timberlake and Mr. Garfield, I'll be back in a few to take you guys for the interview."

"Thank you, Miss—"

"Beverley," she introduced with a flashing grin. "Call me Beverley."

"Beverley, yeah, we'll be here," Justin said with a slight wink. The smile remained stuck on her face, and in a matter of seconds, Jesse was walking with her with his hands shoved in his pockets. I was still lost in my own thoughts over the fact that he still had that damn ticket when Justin walked over and interjected my thoughts.

"I'm surprised he's so buddy-buddy with you."

Confused and a little annoyed, I ripped myself out of the clouds and turned to face him. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I don't know, it's been a while since we've seen you."

It was clear his intention was to talk in riddles, but I was in no mood of playing games. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, really, it's just that Jesse had been wondering why you weren't trying to contact him when you were gone, is all. He was worried that you wanted nothing to do with him anymore."

"Wait, how—how do you know all of this?" I asked. My heart was practically pounding in my chest from pure irritation. Why he was suddenly bringing up everything like this wasn't registering.

A small smile appeared on Justin's face and he slapped a hand on my back, twice. "A lot has changed since you've been off gallivanting."

When he began to walk away, my hand shot out to grab his shoulder, but I was a lot less gentle than he had been. "Elaborate, Justin, I don't appreciate this riddle bullshit."

"Take it easy there, champ, it's nothing," he reassured and put his hands up in defense while turning on his heel.

"If something upset Jesse, then clearly it's something." My jaw clenched. "What do you mean a lot has changed since I've been gone?"

Letting out a heavy sigh, Justin rolled his eyes and started to explain. "Well it's nothing to be alarmed about, I took care of it."

"Took care of what?"

"Jesse." He shrugged and his eyes shifted around the building. "When you left, he got lonely, so I came in and spent some time with him, alright? I got to know Jesse _very_ well; it's not a big deal. I just thought he would be less inclined to bringing you back into his life as easily as he has, that's all."

Completely dumbfounded, I stared as he turned away from me to face the woman coming over to take us into the interview room. He was starting to put ideas in my head, none of which were any good. This explained why he was so _close_ to him lately, like he was trying to be some sort of bizarre, over-protective shadow that wasn't present a year ago. Jesse could have other friends, so I didn't see why I was so angry and jealous. Why I was jealous could probably result from the fact that he was nearly dancing around me, guilt-tripping me into remember how I left Jesse for so long without as much as a call or a text.

"Are you two ready?" Beverley asked, and I nodded solemnly, only to follow her and Justin into the hallway leading to the interview room.

The interview was about as awkward as you could possibly imagine between the two of us. From what I had just learned, I distanced myself physically from Justin whenever he spoke as his words echoed through my brain. Whenever I spoke, I was sort of disorganized in my flow of words, but I had to speak since Justin barely really uttered a word. Neither of us acknowledged each other except for once when he gestured towards me, but I was pretty sure I made some sort of distasteful face. In conclusion, the interview was positively shit and full of voluptuous tension I couldn't even try to fathom at that point in time.

After the interview was finished, we met up awkwardly with Jesse, only to decide to venture back to their suite for a couple of drinks. However, Justin didn't have any actual liquor that he preferred, apparently, since Jesse wasn't one for drinking too often, so he chose to meet up with us in about a half hour. This left Jesse and I some time to catch up alone, which, quite frankly, I needed dearly. I was amazed to see the inside of the suite once Jesse slid the card through the reader and opened up the door to let me in first.

"Thanks, I—Bloody hell, Jesse, how expensive was this room?" I gawked. The amount of money that this place had cost must've been a blow to the head.

"Justin said we should get it," he sheepishly replied while shutting the door behind him. "He said to live large, so I went with it. I'm sort of dreading the bill, but if it keeps the paparazzi away… then I suppose it's worth it."

"I haven't seen a damn photographer anywhere near this hotel," I admitted, still annoyed that Justin wound up toying with Jesse's fear to get him to do what he wanted. "If anything, a hotel room this lavish will get their attention more."

Once I was finished spinning around to get a complete circle-around of the place, I stopped so that I was in front of Jesse, who was still nervously holding the key card to the room. At first, the air was awkward with loads of unanswered questions floating invisibly in the air, so I spoke up first.

"I've missed you a lot, Jesse."

Jesse lit up. "I've missed you, too, Drew. I'm really quite thrilled to see you again, here, in New York."

"How are your cats?"

"Hopefully well, I haven't seen them in a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours?" I asked with a breathy laugh.

Jesse stared and answered in all seriousness. "Well, yes, I took a short stop at my house in secret in order to make sure the cat sitter was doing her job. You can't possibly expect me to assume everything is alright when it comes to my cats."

"Of course, Jesse, I would never assume that," I reassured in a playful tone before taking a few steps forward. As my eyes grazed his face, I felt so many feelings reappear, feelings that had been dormant, feelings that had diminished to merely an ache, a longing, for something once there. Knowing he was right in front of my face and it wasn't a dream kept me realizing that going back home was the biggest mistake of my life. Being somewhere, alone, with him were the moments that I treasured the most.

And yet, one question rang through my mind:

_Are you in love with him?_

"Andrew?"

"Hmm?"

"You're staring at me. It's—it's alarming."

"Sorry, couldn't help myself," I apologized and shook it off. Jesse's smile faltered and his eyes slightly widened in alarm.

"Why?" he questioned, and, unable to lie, I shook my head and took a step closer.

"Because you are a very beautiful individual, that's why." Biting my lower lip, I chuckled and reached out to run a thumb over his cheek, but I stopped myself and retracted my hand.

Out of the blue, he grabbed my arm in time before it could fall back to my side. His face was hard to read, but the gesture was sincere, for his hand stayed on my arm, sending the same trickle of fire I always felt whenever he touched me. Unable to fight the urge any longer, I leaned in, hesitantly at first, and started ducking my head lower—

"The party's back!" called a familiar voice from the door. Immediately, I tugged my arm from his quickly dying grip and stood an arm's length away from him. Justin had two bags full of liquor he had picked up from the store and an eager grin plastered on his face; his realization that something was up wasn't until he saw us standing in the living room. Dropping the bags to the floor, he gave us a puzzled look. "Is something up?"

"Nothing's 'up'," Jesse answered without hesitation, though his words were a bit rushed. He moved away to sit down on the couch and nearly missed when Justin reached into the bag and threw him a bottle of beer.

"Here, have some. It looks like you just saw a ghost." I didn't appreciate when his eyes traveled towards me accusingly.

After tossing me a bottle, we all sat around the living room and took up a little chat. Jesse barely took a sip of his beer but left it snugly in his hand; Justin was busy on his third, however, he swore he wasn't one to become intoxicated easily. How that would work, I assumed I would find out tonight. I took a few sips here and there, but really my mind was elsewhere, stuck on the awkward tension in the air. Jesse and Justin were really hitting it off with their own inside jokes, though Jesse seemed less enthused than Justin; occasionally, his eyes would venture over to mine on the opposite end of the couch and I stared back shamelessly. Justin didn't seem to notice a damn thing.

An hour or so later, Jesse set his barely touched beer bottle down on the coffee table and stood up. Straightening out his clothes, he nodded to both of us. "Tonight has been exciting, but, unfortunately, I really need to acquire some sleep." Directing his attention towards me, he sent me a sweet smile. "You can stay the night unless if you'd rather sleep at your hotel."

Shaking my head, I took one last sip of alcohol and made a face at the bitter taste. "Nope, I'd rather stay here for the night. Thanks, Jesse."

"No need to thank me. Um, I suppose I will see both of you in the morning. Goodnight." And he finished with a wave.

"Goodnight, kiddo," Justin called once Jesse walked past him. As for us, the remaining two, we kept silent as the door shut. Neither of us truly had anything to say to one another, or that's what I believed, so after a few moments I stood up and set my beer down as well.

"I guess I should go get some shut eye as well. 'Night, Justin," I simply stated and, without waiting for a goodbye back, I started on my way down the hallway I believed to house the other bedrooms. It wasn't long until I heard a second set of footsteps rushing in the same direction as me. Instinctively I turned, but Justin suddenly in my face startled me.

"We need to talk," he stated in a low, almost dangerous tone.

Shocked, I opened my mouth, but nothing truly coherent came out. "Justin, what are you—"

"No, listen to me, alright?" Cutting me off, he held up a hand, though I was frozen in the hallway, utterly confused by his antics. "You need to go."

"Justin, why…" Trailing off, I finally managed to bring myself back down to planet Earth before speaking again. "What is this? Why is there so much tension between us, I don't fully understand what you're trying to get at here. You're pissed off about something but you keep on alluding to nothing."

Walking around me, he placed a hand on my back and shoved me forward into the closest room, the room I believed to be the guest bedroom Jesse had offered me without Justin's consent. By the time I even fully grasped what was going on, he had shut the door quietly, I guess to make sure Jesse wouldn't hear. When he seemed to believe the coast was clear, he turned and charged at me.

"Do you know what mess you have caused?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

I reared back, stunned, when he went in my face, acid dripping from every word spilling from his mouth. "I will not let you waltz in here like you own the goddamn place. You have no idea what you have caused, _no idea._"

"Christ, Justin, caused _what?_"

"Have you looked at him lately, huh? Have you?"

"Looked at _who, _what the hell are—"

"_Jesse_, Andrew! Jesse!" He shouted in a whisper. "I see the look in your eye, like everything is honky-dory, but you have no idea how much damage you created with the shit you pulled last year. You have no idea what happened or have any regard when it comes to Jesse's feelings. Next time when you look at him, _really_ look at him, I can guarantee you that you will see how fucked up he is on the inside."

When I didn't respond and merely stood there, dumbfounded, he continued. "You destroyed him when you left. Do you have any idea how many times he texted me, asking if you ever texted? Now why the fuck would you text me? That's what I thought for a while whenever he asked until I realized that he was desperate to find anyone, _anyone_ to have any sort of contact with you because you were too busy to send one text to him. He texted everyone: Armie, Brenda, Joe. Everyone here was concerned about his well-being because he was slightly going off the deep end.

"And after a while, when you didn't call him back or when you didn't call like you promised? He started asking for me to come over because he was lonely. So I did. I went over and he would ramble for, Jesus, for hours about you, about his cats, about his every insecurity. After a while, I started inviting him out places with me because he was so stuck on sitting inside his house. Whenever he felt angry or upset or depressed, I was there.

"And where were you, huh?" he asked, his voice never lifting above that whisper, though it was obvious that maintaining it at that level was hard for him to do. My entire body had shut down, numb and totally mind blown over everything suddenly falling out of the deck. Clearly it pissed him off when I didn't respond. "What kind of friend are you? Your promises were empty."

"It—It's not my fault," I managed to croak out, my hands now trembling. "I didn't mean… to do anything, _anything_ at all, like that—"

"Well you did, and I'm here to clean up the mess that you left, alright?" He interjected. Shutting my mouth, my eyes could no longer stare his in the face like a man; instead I looked down at the floor, at our feet, and swallowed down whatever cry was threatening to spill out. For a moment he removed himself from my personal space and paced around the room, leaving me to wallow in my own thoughts, my own realizations of what I had done.

As if that wasn't enough, he came back, this time with a light that caught my attention. "Listen to this."

Shoving his cell phone next to my ear, I had no choice but to hold it with my shaking hand against my ear. Drawing in a shaky breath, I tried to prepare myself for the worst, but nothing, _nothing_, could have prepared me for the voice mail left on Justin's phone.

_One saved voice message. First voice message:_

_Ju-Justin? Oh god, please, please answer the phone, I need you to—I just can't stay here, not with this, not like this. Everything, fucking—__**everything**__ reminds me of him here, and I can't handle it. I tried speaking to my therapists but they won't answer their phones, and this alcohol isn't exactly helping either, please, Justin, just answer the goddamn phone! …No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, even if this is an automated voice message system and not actually you hearing this, but please, pick up. Every single—Every single text message or call or even knock on the door I get, I keep thinking he's going to just walk right in and wake me up, but I keep waking up and he's not there… I can't, Justin…_

By now, I could barely even breathe or see straight. My eyes were blurred with tears; each word sent a knife to my chest, and I clutched onto the cell phone for dear life. It took everything in me not to sob back a response, to make him stop hurting, but there was nothing I could do.

_I miss him so fucking much, it hurts. I can barely get up in the morning or eat. I've even resorted to—to checking out information and news online just to make sure he's okay, and he's just… he's gone. I—I guess I should hang up, too, since I feel like I'm going to vomit. I—If you get the chance and A-Andrew calls you, please, just… call me back. Th-Thanks._

_End of saved voice message._

I stared blankly at the wall in front of me while holding the phone up to my ear. Slowly, my arm dropped and my thumb grazed over the 'End' button, unsure of whether or not I could handle hearing the message a second time. After a few seconds of drinking in what I had just heard, my eyes flashed up to Justin, whom had taken a step back. His face was still a slight shade of red from quietly bursting out whatever steam he had left in his body, but once he saw how unnerved I was from the message, a small look of satisfaction dawned on his face. Unable to hold the phone anymore, I tossed it back to him with my eyes downcast, unwilling to move. He must've caught it, I heard no thud, but I was too ashamed to check. Whatever reason he had for showing me the voicemail worked and he knew it. In a short shuffle, I could smell the stench of cologne emitting from his clothes and his hot breath scorching down my neck. I hated having him so close to me.

"I picked up the pieces, Andrew, not you. You left him, and I was there, and I won't let you waltz right back in. You mean _nothing_."

And so he left me to swallow the guilt, to swallow the shame, and shut the door behind him, leaving me in nothing but the darkness.

_I keep waking up and he's not there._

My mind continued to torture me, over and over, as I lie in bed on my back with my eyes glued to the ceiling. The pillow underneath my head had been practically soaked and my body fought the urge to puke several times throughout the night. Everything trembled like I was suffering from frostbite, but there was no way I could ever make up for what I had heard. I had hurt Jesse in the worst way imaginable, in a way I never thought I could ever do. I was a monster, a cruel and terrible person, and I didn't deserve to be here. Justin was right. I wasn't there to pick up the pieces when I should have been there every single minute.

Unable to stay in my bed any longer, I walked to the door and outstretched a shaken hand to pull it open. The entire suite was dead silent, for the time was somewhere around three or four, so I quietly made my way down the hallway to where I remembered seeing Jesse go. Luckily for me, Jesse's room was the only door closed, so it was easy to find in the pitch blackness. Fumbling with the doorknob, I drew in a breath, though it was more of a hiccup, and pushed open the door as silently as I possibly could.

And there he was, totally unaware of the blow-up only a few hours ago, sleeping like an angel on the left side of the bed. Unable to contain myself anymore, I held onto the frame of the door for support and started to noiselessly sob, my face contorting into a huge amount of pain in the shadows. As I sobbed, the voice message of Jesse crying played through my head, only weakening me further. My entire heart was ripping now, piece by piece, from getting a good look at him and realizing what I had done to him. Friends didn't do that do each other; friends weren't supposed to cause the other person so much pain that they can barely get up in the morning or—or you hurt them so much that they call people drunk at night or text others constantly because you didn't do your job to protected them.

Taking in a breath, I sniffed and tried to contain my sobs for just a moment as I took one small step into the room. "J-Jesse?"

No answer.

I should have turned and walked away. I should have simply shut the door and walked back to my room, that way Jesse would never have any idea that I was in here at night or that I knew everything that happened while I was gone. Everyone and everything would go back to normal. But I couldn't.

I couldn't because I was in love with him.

Hesitantly, I shut the door and moved towards the empty side of the bed. I half-contemplated that I was insane, but I continued moving either way as my body sat on the edge of the bed before sliding down to lay over the covers of his bed. Making sure I was on my side, I sniffed again and watched him sleep, but the very image of him in pain killed me inside. With a trembling hand, I reached over and lightly brushed a few curls from his face.

"Jesse?" I whispered, though it came out more as a sob.

A bit of small movement occurred and then a mumble: "Drew?"

"Y-Yeah, Jesse. It's—" Swallowing, I bit my lower lip and muted the cries. "It's me."

"Why…in my bed?" He asked, clearly half asleep.

"I'm sorry about everything, okay? I—I'm sorry about hurting you and—and I don't deserve you as a friend. I hurt you so badly, and I couldn't—I couldn't _protect_ you like I wanted to when you n-n-needed me, and I'm so sorry," I whispered, but I couldn't contain myself anymore. A short sob escaped my through and, despite his sleepiness and the fact that I had suddenly appeared in his bed, he wasn't the slightest bit freaked out. "I understand if you don't want me around. I wouldn't want me here, either."

Jesse opened his eyes just a little so he could see just underneath his eyelids, but instead of answering, his arm reached up in-between us and above his head. His hand grabbed my own, and carefully, his fingers traced over mine before entwining them. Then he brought our hands and lightly tucked it against his chest so the back of my hand would lightly pulsate from the heart beating in his chest. All he had to do was say one thing:

"Please don't be sad."

Jesse's voice was so sincere and innocent that I couldn't help but dawn a small smile. I squeezed his hand in response and he squeezed back, only to nuzzle against it with his cheek. Tilting down, his lips lightly brushed over my knuckles for a light beck before bringing it back to his chest to cuddle against it. For a few moments I just lied there, watching him slowly drift back off into sleep. When I knew he was asleep, I leaned in and whispered.

"I'm not going to go anywhere anymore, alright? I'm here. I'm here."

It wasn't long before I, too, drifted off into sleep, cuddled against Jesse in the dim shade of the moonlight, blissfully unaware of the world that no longer mattered without him.


	5. disintegration

**Part Five: Disintegration**

* * *

Although it felt like we had all the time in the world, the world seemed to have no time for us.

I had some inkling form of knowledge as to where I was, yet 'why' posed an even bigger and more important question. The pale sun illuminating the room had awoken me from a deep sleep, a very tiring, exhausting sleep. As much of an oxymoron that was, it was the closest I could get to describing the truth. Even though it wasn't much, I had some form of recollection as to why I was here. I did remember coming back to Jesse's suite to have a couple of drinks after the interviews. The interviews had been positively awkward and I'm sure it showed on camera, but I also remembered that Justin had attacked me, alone, in the guest bedroom Jesse had offered me for the night. That itself felt like a matter of hours rather than minutes. Yes, how could I ever forget that… that message.

_I keep waking up and he's not there._

In a rush, my eyes snapped open, jump-starting my body into a complete awakened state of mind. They were frantically searching about to see just where I had ended up in the middle of the night. The first thing I noticed, however, was not the room, but instead a mop of curly brown hair and a pair of frightened eyes upon an otherwise expressionless face staring straight back at me. A moment passed until I choked on the air in my throat at the realization.

Jesse.

At first, I wasn't sure how to react. My initial reaction was to be happy, purely happy, to be able to wake up beside him in the morning. Although no one else knew about it, sometimes at night I would wish for him to be there, even just to talk to or, hell, not say anything at all but sit there with me until the night was over. Jesse was someone that I could never tire of speaking to, no matter if we went through a million and a half topics or only four. I could openly say anything to him and he would never judge what would come out of my mouth. He was my rock to lean on, and, although it may have been jumping the gun, I had a feeling in my gut that it was the rock I wanted to lean on for the rest of my life.

The way he stared at me made me uneasy. Unable to come up with anything, I blurted whatever left my mouth first. "Some weather we're having this morning, eh?"

Jesse simply stared as if I had just grown a second head. "What?"

"It's…" Staring at him, my eyes rounded, initiating 'deer caught in headlights' mode. "It's really sunny out, that's why I thought you were already awake."

"That's not what woke me up."

"It wasn't?"

"No- Well, well it was, it's just— the sun was a factor in my premature awakening, but…"

"But what?" Lifting my head slightly, I furrowed my brows. "Are you okay? It looks like you saw a ghost."

Jesse still stared with a look debating on whether or not to believe my story. Instead of answering, his eyes fell, bit by bit, until they landed on something near my chest. Following his gaze, my eyes wound up resting upon our entwined hands placed against the white sheets. His grip was practically nonexistent compared to the one he had earlier in the morning when I first climbed into bed; the one still holding on for dear life was me. Swallowing, I waited with my eyes downcast, ashamed. Honestly, I didn't even remember what was even said between us last night; I think it was safe to assume he didn't either.

"You're—You're holding my hand."

The statement caused me to look up. Jesse looked more or less unnerved by that realization. I stared, hopeful, begging to hear that he was alright with keeping us there. My grip lessened only a tad; he still stared, completely stuck in a mixed stage of fright and awe that I was even there. That same stage hit me like a ton of bricks: _I loved him._ I was in his bed because I didn't want to be anywhere if it wasn't his side. Now that he was back in my life, I was determined to make things the way they were, they way they should have been, not the way they wound up becoming because of my stupidity, because of my carelessness.

When I desperately looked back, I searched for anything, _anything_ that would tell me he, too, had the same revelation. Last night, he even _kissed_ my hand. That had to count for something, didn't it? Biting my lower lip, my hope was slowly diminishing as he moved farther away from me on the bed, keeping a distance, but his hand was still locked in mine. Something felt lodged in my throat, but I gave him a weak smile and an encouraging nod to try and lighten the mood.

"I-I know." My voice came out hoarse, and I took note of the pain in my throat from crying so damn much.

Yet, my heart crumbled; he tugged his hand away and stared back, emotionless. My eyes pleaded for anything positive, but his face contorted into one of slight confusion, of slight… regret.

"I-I think you should get up now."

Perhaps this was a mistake, a huge, big, utter mistake. I knew I didn't hide the hurt on my face very well, for Jesse stared back, now stricken with worry. If I had been in the right mindset, I would have shut off my grief and laughed it off, but I felt nothing but hurt. As much as I would have liked to pretend he did, he didn't feel the same way. The revelation I had the other night was something that had never crossed his mind. He just looked scared, goddamn scared, of me. I never dreamed of Jesse being afraid of me.

"I-I'm sorry, Jesse, I didn't know—"

"When did you get into my room last night?" he quietly queried.

"I don't remember."

"Honestly?"

Pleadingly, I shook my head. "You know I would never lie to you, mate. Never would I ever betray your trust like that. You know me."

"But surely you should have some sort of recollection as to why we…" Jesse glanced around the room like he was paranoid other people were listening. "…how we wound up like _this_ in _my_ room."

The pain in my chest only grew. Not only did he not feel the same way, but he was ashamed of ending up like this. As he spoke, the night came back to me, word for word, and I so desperately wanted to tell him how he kissed my hand and initiated the cuddling, how I felt about him.

"You came in here… You came here crying," he added, and my heart skipped a beat.

"So you're remembering?" I asked with a hopeful hint in my voice.

"N-Not—Not at all," Jesse replied honestly with a slight huff of air. "Do y-you?"

I could have told him the truth. I could have started something so beautiful if he would only let me. No—_we_ could have started something beautiful. We could actually get something done here. All I needed to do was tell him the truth, tell him about Justin and the drunken voicemail he saved for me to listen to, tell him about how I could care less about the world, about the media, about anything if it didn't involve him. I felt something so strong last night before we fell asleep, as I was crying and he sleepily comforted me in the best way anyone could have. Holding Jesse's hand made me want to throw up in only the best way. With him, I felt like a kid, like a goddamn, love drunken kid. I felt giddy and invincible and, most of all, _happy_. Jesse was my happiness.

Yet, everything that could have propelled us to another level halted right before my eyes. I must have seen the signs wrong. Maybe he thought I was Anna last night; I don't know how, but he must have. I had no answer for any of his questions, and even if I did, I couldn't actually tell him the real answers in fear of a freak out. There was no love in his eyes when he looked into mine. While I stared in pure admiration and devotion, he watched regretfully in return. Everything I could have imagined faded away just at the snap of the fingers. All I could do now was gaze back apologetically and hope to remain where I was in his hierarchy of friends.

No matter what I wanted to believe, there was no "us". There was never going to be an "us".

Smiling weakly, I shook my head. "No, mate, I suppose I had too much to drink to remember."

My heart was on such an emotional rollercoaster that it soared high and yet was breaking all the same. Last night, I should have stayed in my room and quietly left in the morning. Justin was right; I knew he was right from the start of our little dispute the night before. We weren't the same anymore because it was entirely my fault. If I hadn't caused Jesse such emotional stress, maybe he would be staring back at me with admiration and devotion just as I had. We weren't the same anymore because my feelings had to change, but was this all a drunken mistake? Seeing Jesse so distraught and nearly going into sputters again completely threw me off guard. Jesse never really sputtered around me; that was the beauty of our friendship. We were so comfortable around one another to the point where nothing really ever bothered us. Not anymore, though. Now I wasn't sure where we were in our friendship.

When Jesse said nothing and yet everything with his eyes, I took the punch in the gut and started to sit up. "Alright."

And that was all I needed to say. Jesse still watched me, worried and confused, as I sat up straight in the bed and pulled the covers from my body. I was still in my suit pants and barely buttoned shirt; I suppose after last night's spiel I had no time to get dressed in proper sleeping attire. Then again, I never actually brought anything since it had been an impromptu sleepover.

Trudging towards the door, I glanced back after I placed my hand on the doorknob. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, Jess."

The look in his eye said everything he wasn't. For a brief moment, I had a notion he was going to apologize for kicking me out the way he had, but he said nothing. No, he did say something, something that nearly broke my heart:

"I-It's fine, just— just don't— just don't tell Justin, okay?"

If it hadn't already, my heart was shattered into a million pieces. I tried so, so hard to keep from showing my true feelings, but I couldn't hold myself any longer. Jesse trusted Justin more than he trusted me. The truth hit my heart like a bullet through my chest, and my grip on the doorknob probably could have popped the thing off if I pulled towards me. Jesse looked even more alarmed now as he sat up in bed and lightly shook his head. Hot, painful tears were threatening to spill, but I kept myself composed enough to not cry in front of him, though it was barely a decent composure.

"An... Andrew?" Jesse quietly asked, but I could no longer think of anything else to say to him. Everything, whether or not physically spoken, had been thrown out onto the table. This was unrequited, and my time was up.

I said nothing and left.

The last thing I had expected to come home to was another person.

Opening the door hastily with my key card, I wiped my face messily with my hand to clear any tears still remaining on my face. Sniffing, I quietly shut the door and leaned my forehead against it for a moment, just a moment, to regroup myself. One, two, three deep breaths inhaled and exhaled, each less ragged than the one before it. I took the long way home, the back alleys and the less traveled roads of New York to keep away from anyone seeing me in such an abysmal state.

Once I felt I was decent enough to walk further to my bedroom, I turned and practically jumped out of my skin. At the end of the hallway, Shannon was standing in a simple blue dress—no, and off blue dress, and I could feel my throat closing up at the sight of it. Jesse's favorite color was an off blue. She was barefoot against the hardwood floor, and as my eyes traveled upward, my face flushed into a blush. She wasn't wearing a bra. The dress wasn't actually a dress; she was standing in front of me with some sort of risqué negligee. A smug look was evident on her face, but when she saw me, it fell clear off her face.

"Andrew?"

"What are you doing here, Shan?" I asked quietly, my eyes reluctantly staying at her face. If I had allowed them to be anywhere but, my mind would be wondering why the hell she was standing in my hotel room half-naked. "How'd you get in?"

It took her a moment, but Shannon lifted her shoulders in her ever so peppy way and cocked her head to the side. "I figured it would be a little surprise since I know you've been working so hard. The hotel recognized me and allowed me into your room, I… hope that's okay—god, you look miserable, Drew, what happened, baby?"

Even her typical pet names were sending a bubbling mess of bile in the back of my throat. In the midst of my pain and agony was a surefire trail of destruction trailing right behind. The only thing on my mind was Jesse. Every time I blinked, he was there, and I needed a moment to rid him from my mind. This sudden infatuation, this obsession, was taking hold of the better part of me, and I needed so badly for it to go away. It hurt too much to know I was too late. He kept looking for me, begging for me to talk to him, but I was never there. The consequences of my actions haunted every part of my brain.

I needed to know that none of this was real. I needed to know that whatever I felt for Jesse was just a sudden rush of drunken, hung-over emotions that could easily go away once I had Shannon back in my arms.

Stalking over to her, I lifted a finger and beckoned her to me. "C'mere."

At first, she stood there, frozen, pondering what on earth could have been wrong with me. I didn't need her analyzing my grief; I just needed it to go away, far away, where I would never feel it again. I needed to feel numb. However, she suddenly smiled and walked on over, her hips swaying suggestively until we were just inches from one another. Unable to help myself any longer, I reached down and behind her, cupped her ass, and dragged her closer to me before crashing our lips together in a frenzied kiss. She complied happily and put her arms around my neck, giggling gently against my lips. Yet, I was in no mood for happy-go-lucky sex. I wanted a hard fuck, something that would make her scream. I needed something that would remind me how loved her, how I still loved her and never Jesse.

Slamming her roughly against the wall while never breaking the kiss, my hand traveled down south once I heard an encouraging moan emit from her lips. Letting go of her lips for just a second, she let out a _'Christ, Drew'_ before I bit her lower lip, dragging it towards me with my teeth. Simultaneously, my hand found it way underneath her skimpy dress. I found out that it was practically tissue paper-thin to the touch, and my hand began to lightly run across the fabric of her panties, making her cry in want. How she was already ready to go at it as easily as she had been blew my mind, but I wasn't complaining.

Hiking her legs up over my waist, I lifted her up easily – there was a perk to becoming Spiderman – and held her against the way for a moment before attacking her neck with kisses, licks, and bites. I was merciless with my assault, but I assumed she didn't mind with how fast her fingers attacked the zipper and button of my pants.

Pulling her off of the wall, I blindly ventured to the bedroom as fast as I could without bumping into any tables or furniture to hinder my actions. It was hard, navigating with just one eye over her shoulder, but I managed to work my footing like magic, and, in an instant, we were lying upon the bed, but I had no time for silly foreplay games. If she was ready, then so was I.

Pulling the negligee over her head, my mouth left her neck and decided to go down towards her chest instead as my hands busily ripped off the panties somehow still clinging to her body. She cried out in protest when she realized I had actually ruined them – I thought it was safe to assume they were more of the expensive kind – but it wasn't like I actually took the time out to look at them. I'd never understand why women spent so much money on things men only wanted to take off. Then again, if that were the case, women would be naked all the time.

Getting both of us there had been a nuisance, practically a chore. I tried so hard to get into it, to feel the way she was feeling as she moaned underneath of me, but I felt nothing. I felt nothing towards her. The body that once aroused me was just a mere object to use at the time. Don't get me wrong, I adored Shannon; I loved her, but was it the same love as it had been before? No, it had to be. I pushed even harder and faster, pulling her up into a sitting position to go deep. She was busy laying her head on my shoulder as I pumped, as she moaned even louder with each met movement. I knew I was getting close, I was almost there, but the only thing keeping me going was the image behind my shut eyes. Jesse was there rather than Shannon. He was here, sitting on top of me, rather than her. I imagined what sex with Jesse would be like. Would it be this raw or would it be gentle, fragile?

The image of Jesse nearly jump started me to the edge in a matter of seconds. When I came, I nearly groaned his name out rather than Shannon's, but I covered and made the words incoherent as she came screeching on my neck.

Exhausted, we flopped back onto the bed. I pulled out and rolled off of her to lay beside her, my chest rising and falling dramatically in desperation for air. I hadn't even noticed my shirt was still half on until I felt the fabric cling to my sweat-soaked skin. Lazily turning my head to look at her, I watched her push the hair clinging to her face back before glancing over to me. She smiled, obviously satisfied, but I merely studied her face. How could I feel nothing for someone who I had spent so much time with? We had made love so many times, but this… this was nothing. I felt nothing. Perhaps, much to my horror, my hypothesis was wrong. The feelings I had for Jesse weren't leaving, and I swallowed with regret.

"I think you should go."

A sentence like that should never be the first thing said after sex to a woman, especially when you haven't seen them for, oh, months of relentless filming. Immediately I regretted ever allowing myself to speak out an almost reiteration of what Jesse had said to me only this morning. Shannon reared her head up and pushed her body into a sitting position. My eyes, in fear of seeing her face, stared down at my chest; I knew the gesture was only going to make it worse, but even I couldn't believe I had done that.

"What?" she asked incredulously. "But we just—"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," I quickly offered and looked up at her. The look on her face almost made me curl back up and hide; I could only describe it as a look of pure fury about to explode. Yep, I definitely regretted ever opening my mouth.

"You… You trust me like this, like a whore you can shoo away at any given time, after not seeing me—"

"Shan, I'm sorry."

"—for days, months, being apart—"

"Shannon, please."

"No! Fuck you, Andrew," she snapped viciously back at me and gathered the sheets around her naked body. "I spent so much time trying to get here, to make you happy, and this is what I get?"

"No, Shan, I didn't mean it, alright, it was a slip!" Sighing, my hand shot out to grab her arm before she fully stood up. Apparently my replies were making it an even bigger mess of the situation. She yanked her arm angrily from my hand, clearly containing herself from launching an attack for what I had done. "C'mon, I needed some time off and I only expected to come home to the room alone. I didn't expect you to be here, not now, and—Shan."

She still wasn't having my apology. Rushing about the room, I saw the suitcase she managed to hide along with her clothes I assumed she wore on the plane trip here by the closet. Throwing the lingerie and ripped panties into the bag, she began tugging on her clothes. All I could do was sit up in bed and watch her; I didn't have the strength to get up and fight with her.

"Please stay?" I quietly asked, defeated. Seeing her hurt like this made me feel like an even bigger jackass. Shannon and I rarely fought, though now I had a horrible feeling this was just the beginning of the fights to come.

"Why would I?" she cried out in rage. Turning to face me once her shirt was properly on her torso, my heart sank at the tears falling down her cheeks. "I mean, Christ, Drew, you never even call anymore. It's like ever since you got your damn Spiderman role I don't exist in your world anymore. If I want to see you, I have to schedule an appointment because you're too busy always going out with—with Emma or—"

From the floor, a shrill ring cut her off mid-rant. In unison, we turned our attention to the song butting into the argument:

_You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl.  
I wish that I had Jesse's girl.  
Where can I find a woman like that?_

Shit.

My body so badly wished to pounce upon the phone and shut it off before it announced who was calling, but the robotic voice cut me to the chase:

_Call from: Jesse Eisenberg_

The name caused my stomach to flip and my heart to skip a beat. For a moment, I forgot Shannon was even present; the pain still in my chest from earlier came back like a freight train. Although I wanted to kill and throw my phone across the room a couple of seconds ago, I knew I didn't have the balls to. I was too shocked to find out he was even calling. Instead of abusing it, I took it off the floor gingerly with a wobbly grip.

However, a disgusted snort diverted my attention back to Shannon. _Jessie's Girl_ was still playing loudly against the palm of my hand. She watched me in disbelief before picking up her backs and trudging across the room towards the door.

"Wait!"

"Smooth, Drew, Smooth," she commented darkly. "_Jessie's Girl?_ More like Jessie's Bitch." Shaking her head, she sniffed and wiped her eyes with her free hand. "It worried me for a while, y'know? You try so much with Jesse. You would spend every waking minute with him on and off set when you were off doing The Social Network in Boston. You were infatuated with him, obsessed with him, and ever since you met him, it's like I don't even exist. Actually, it's like nobody except him exists in your world. You've got some sick and weird thing going on with him, and I'm not sure if I can take much longer being the third wheel in my own fucking relationship."

The phone had stopped ringing and instead beeped to voicemail. This only made the silence after her explosion even worse to sit in. I could say nothing, and I suppose she had been waiting for me to say something back, to reassure her that none of this was true, but I just sat there and stared with the phone in my lap.

Once she realized she wasn't getting an argument back, Shannon pushed her purse straps back over her shoulder and opened the door to leave. With one foot out the door, she hesitated before turning back to look me in the eye. "You need to get your priorities straightened out, you really do, Andrew. Whatever this thing is you have with Jesse is nothing but a co-worker friendship. You can't push everyone around you away because you want to become his second skin. You can't push me away, because I won't be staying around much longer. Get it through your head that this weird phase you're stuck in will ruin you. It will ruin us."

The phone rang a second time in my hand with the same song oozing out of the back speakers until the robot voice chimed in with, _'Call from: Jesse Eisenberg'_. Taking one glance down at the Caller ID, my eyes then shifted back up to see Shannon, but she was no longer there. She had shut my door, leaving me in the darkness with only a light from the singing phone. For a second time, my eyes landed back on the Caller ID with Jesse's smiling face peering up at me. I hated what he did to me, for what I became because I had met him. Shannon and Justin were both right in their own aspects, but I guess I was the only one to blame. Call it dramatic, but I truly hated myself. I had had such an amazing relationship with an amazing woman, and I threw it out the window in a matter of seconds, without second thoughts. But she knew. She knew that I had feelings for Jesse and, according to her, the entire world was taking note of my bizarre behavior.

Maybe it was time for me to take note of it, too, rather than shy away from it. Maybe it was time to tell him the truth.

Tonight was the second premiere party for The Social Network, but rather than focusing on the party, I knew there was something else I had to get out of the way first:

I needed to confront Jesse about the night almost a year ago, about feelings, and… well, about us. I needed to know I wasn't as crazy as everyone else was making me sound. I knew I had blown whatever chance I thought I had lost, but not telling him was just as bad as lying to him. I knew now why I had crept into his room and why I was holding onto his hand so tightly. I knew now why his awkwardness with other people made me smile or his laugh made my heart soar. I knew now why whenever he felt sad that I was on a mission to make it better as fast as possible without any hesitation. Something like that wasn't mean to be discarded or hidden, not as long as I had allowed it to go on for. Jesse was my best friend and until now I had never hidden anything from him, so it was time to come clean.

It had been about two days since our explosive argument over how shitty of a boyfriend I had become over the past year. Somehow I managed to pull up enough apologies for Shannon to come with me. The smarter thing to do would have been to go solo, but unfortunately there was that moment in which a person in front of cameras had to play the part of a happy couple, and Shannon and I both knew how chaotic that could become should the media suddenly think there was a crisis at hand.

Although it had been hard, I wound up inviting her over for dinner I had cooked for her the night before the premiere party and explained some things to her. Telling her the entire truth was easier said than done, but I did admit that I was a little out of control and she instantly forgave me. She even apologized for blowing up the way she had, though I was very sure that I deserved every ounce of anger spewed at me. I knew from the beginning she wasn't actually leaving to go back to the set; she instead stayed with a few friends in New York until it blew over. Oddly, she was happy-go-lucky about everything, like the fight had never happened, and she agreed to accompany me at the party the next day.

Still, to pretend things are good now just for the sake of being better was the only option I could think of at that moment no matter how ridiculously wrong it might've been. In reality, I don't think she should have ever forgiven me. It would have been much easier if we could have parted ways there.

Arriving to the party had been a nuisance in itself. Then again, carpet walks were always incredibly exhausting and long. I wrapped an arm protectively over Shannon as she snuggled into my suit jacket and we smiled for the billions of flashing lights before us. On the outside, we seemed almost perfect; a guy like me dating a fellow actress like her was a perfect, stereotypical romance anyone would like to hear about. From behind the gate, various people amongst the crowds beckoned for us to look a certain direction, and like robots we did just that before our publicists gently pushed us away towards the building.

"Where do you want to sit?" Shannon asked once the massive circular tables came into view. Before I could answer, she already had her mind set on one particular table with a tall prince, a dork with glasses, a man itching to dance, and Jesse.

Oh, how swimmingly that would go.

"Shannon-bo-bannon!" exclaimed Armie as he stood up to give Shannon a kiss on the cheek and a large bear hug.

"Hi Armie! Oh gosh, Liz, you look beautiful in that dress!" Shannon complimented enthusiastically to Armie's wife as she made her rounds about the table. Armie was busy shuffling on over to me to pull me into one of his infamous man-crushing hugs.

"Hey princess, how have you been?" he offered, though his voice was much softer when speaking to me than it was with Shannon. I blinked, afraid it was evident that something else was on my mind.

"Huh? Oh, I've been the same old, same old."

"How's the tights treating you?"

"The what?"

"The tights."

I couldn't help but smile. "Spiderman's going well, Armie. It's tiring, but being bashed into walls takes a bit to getting used to."

"Ward-_o_!" greeted another person from the table before holding out his hand to shake mine and pull me into a hug. Of course, it had been Joe's favorite line.

"Hi Joe."

"Joe's been talking about you since he got here," Armie informed me.

"Way to sound like you actually want to see me. Geez, it's been a long time and all I get is a hi?" Joe teased before nodding towards Shannon. "She looks great. You look… eh."

"You bloody prick," I joked with a playful shove and a laugh.

Joe rolled his eyes and grinned and pulled up the bottom of his pants to flash off some retro bowling shoes that didn't match the rest of the outfit in the slightest. They were almost painful to look at. "Whatever. I'm about to get my groove on. I got my boogie shoes on, too, so I'll be burnin' up the dance floor with my sick disco moves."

"You do know disco hasn't really been around since the seventies, right?" I asked with a raised eyebrow as Joe showed off his disco pointing skills. Quite frankly, they were no skills whatsoever, but I went along with it.

However, I didn't hear Joe's answer, though from how long I heard his voice it seemed to be a length response. My eyes fell on Justin and Jesse sitting at the table. Justin was watching us intently, his eyes flashing from Joe to me on repeat. When my eyes landed on Jesse on the opposite side of the table, his appearance worried me. His complexion was as white as a ghost, but his eyes stared up at me in fear. At first it discouraged me, but I reminded myself about the past couple of days. Whenever Shannon was around I left my phone on silent in fear of a ringtone ruining our evening. The last time I had checked my missed calls list nine had been from Jesse over the span of three days. There were none from today.

Even though my throat was closing up at the thought of speaking to him, I addressed him anyway. "Where's Anna?"

"Sick" was all he responded with before staring down at the napkins placed decoratively upon the table.

I wanted to open my mouth again to ask him what she was sick with, but Joe lightly tapped me on the shoulder followed by a collision of Shannon hugging me from behind. Turning my head, I watched, confused, as Shannon bent down to take off her heels.

"Hey, would you mind if I took your little lady for a spin on the dance floor?" Joe asked then moved in with a much more pleading tone. "She's the only one who will dance. I thought maybe Brenda would have with me but I guess she has no interest in me whatsoever. I promise she'll be back by ten."

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head and sighed. "Go for it, cowboy. Just make sure you don't do any perverted moves like the boob-graze dive."

Perking up, Joe patted me on the shoulder and nodded in appreciation and, with that, he and Shannon were rushing out to the dance floor as the only two dancing like there was no tomorrow. In fact, everyone seemed to be having an amazing time. Armie was telling his priceless jokes while Liz cuddled against him and inserted the truthful parts of whatever tall tales he was performing. The only one not seeming to have any fun was Jesse and Justin. Justin, of course, I wasn't really concerned about until he got up to go chat with Brenda and Rooney over by the bar.

So that just left Jesse and I, and Jesse seemed to notice this right away. In an instant, he pushed the chair out behind him back and straightened his suit. My sight zeroed in on his shaking hands until his back was turned to me. The minute he started walking away from the table, I immediately stood up and started after him without answering Armie's question pertaining to his joke. I wasn't letting Jesse walk away like this.

Once I followed him to a hallway where the music was muffled, I finally spoke up. "Where are you going?"

Somehow he must've never heard me following him or he was just in a jumpy mood since he nearly flew through the ceiling in fright. "Andrew, you scared the—" Then he stopped and his eyes grew larger. "Were you fo—were… were you following me?"

"You seemed upset," I reasoned, but Jesse opened his mouth resentfully.

"So you were following me." Taking a moment to let it sink in, Jesse held up his hand and started walking forward again. "Leave me be."

The second he started walking away, I took a stride and grabbed his arm into my hand and tugged him off to the side of the hallway. Jesse actually put up a struggle at first, but my grip on his arm wasn't budging. Swallowing my fear, I knew damn well I needed to get this off my chest. "You can't walk away from me, Jesse. We need to talk."

"There's noth—nothing to talk about, Andrew."

"You know there bloody well is and neither you nor I have the balls to admit it, but I'm changing that," I whispered sharply to him while lowering my head down towards his face. "I can't keep living like this." With his Adam's apple bobbing in fear, Jesse stared up at me, pleading to let this go, but I couldn't. Biting my lower lip, my hand released his arm once my face started to contort in pain. "You can't expect me to keep living like this, like we're okay or things in both of our lives are grand because you know they're not, Jesse. Every day I'm stuck with the guilt and ache of knowing you're here but you're not… you're not really _here_."

Nervously shifting his eyes about the hallway, Jesse fell back into his shell. "I don't… I don't know what this—what you—I don't know what y-you're getting at a-a-and you're scaring me, quite frankly, a lot."

Inhaling a deep breath, I sniffed and stared him straight in the eye. "That night we were together, Jess, after the last day of filming. You came up to me and you… you _kissed_ me, Jesse. You bloody kissed me and nearly ripped my knickers off, how can you not tell me that there isn't anything to talk about?"

As if he remembered like it was yesterday, Jesse's eyes bugged out of his head before slightly rearing back. It was the first time either of us had ever addressed it ever happening. In a way, it never did happen until now. Until now, it had been a long-forgotten memory maybe for him, but it had been stuck in my brain, clear as day, for an entire year now. Slightly panting, I allowed myself to wait for Jesse's answer before continuing.

"We crossed a line that night," he replied meekly.

"No, _you_ crossed a line that night, Jesse. You came onto me, not the other way around," I corrected. "Don't just brush it off like it's some crazy dream. It happened."

"Andrew, we can't—"

"Yes, we can, and we are," I decided for him. Jesse was beyond flustered as he searched for something to say, anything to say, to make me say otherwise. Powerless against my feelings, I grabbed his shoulders and pressed him up against the nearest wall. Jesse let out a tiny whimper, but I only pressed forward as I leaned my knee in against his crotch and my lips against his ear. "You had me against the wall, like this, a year ago. We… we had just come from the last shot, and- and we were arguing. We were arguing a lot, and all of a sudden you had me like this in the elevator. And you kissed me."

Pulling my head back just enough so that there were mere inches between our faces, I let out a shallow breath and stared into his eyes. At first he looked away from me, but then he looked me, too, dead in the eye with a look of sorrow. Biting my lower lip, I studied his face for a moment to compose myself before continuing on.

"And then you ran."

"I didn't run," Jesse quietly interjected.

"Then what did you do?"

"I had no other choice, Andrew."

"You had so many choices, Jes—"

"How about you force yourself onto someone and you can come back and tell me how it feels," he interrupted in a shaken tone. "You try and you tell me what I could and couldn't have done, but you—you try and take that back, Andrew. I was scared, alright, and mortified and I didn't know what else to do, so I left you there."

"And you never said anything about it."

"What was I supposed to say?" Jesse asked louder than either of us had anticipated. "Did you think I liked leaving you there? Did you think I liked living with the fact that my best friend may hate me because of something I did?"

I was floored. "Jesse, I didn't hate you—"

"Oh, because I knew that," Jesse interrupted. He, too, was fighting off emotional strain from ever appearing on his face. "Because I am supposed to know how everyone is feeling or—or thinking all the time. Well guess what: you had a choice too, okay? You had a choice to say no and—and I'm sorry that I hurt you so much, and if c-could take it back, I-I would."

His words kept me there, frozen, stunned. He was under the impression that I hated him for what he did rather than the truth. Letting go of his one shoulder, my right hand instinctively rose and brushed against his cheek. Sniffing, I shook my head and gazed down at his lips before flashing up to his eyes.

"Don't ever take it back, Jesse," I whispered. "I'm not."

And in unison, we no longer stood there and instead launched ourselves at one another. In a wild frenzy, we were grabbing at each other's hair and backs as our lips slammed together. My hands were dancing freely in his curls and he kissed back with such intensity that my knees were growing weak. It felt like heaven, to feel the curves of his lips brushing against mine again; it was a feeling I was praying to feel again before I died at least once more. Jesse was the first to break it, but I could no longer contain myself.

"Jesse, I'm in love with you."

Out of breath, Jesse stopped for a moment and became completely still. _"What?"_

"Fro-From the moment I met you, I knew you were something special, and—and I can't pretend that I don't anymore," I admitted hurriedly. "I have been pretending for both our sakes, for everyone's sakes, but I just don't care anymore. It shouldn't matter about anyone else, it's about what I want, and I want you, Jesse Eisenberg. I—I want to be able to see you every day and call you about stupid grocery shopping lists. I want to parent cats with you and go map hunting and become anything you need me to be because without you…" Unable to stop the tears now, I sniffed and shook my head. "Without you, I—I can't even live with you or think of living without you. I need you."

With wide eyes, Jesse's jaw slightly hung open at my bursting confession. Wiping a tear from my face, I took a step back with a slight sense of dread brewing inside me.

"What… What about Shannon?" Jesse asked in a tone barely above a whisper.

Shannon. Although it hurt to say it, I knew it was better than to pretend it wasn't true. "We're not like that anymore, Jesse. We—We're not going to be together."

"You can't just… You can't just up and leave her, Drew," Jesse answered, and slowly, my high of confidence started to dwindle. Why wasn't he adamant about being together?

"I-I can, though, we're not the way we used to be. Look, I can break it off with her and then you and I—"

"What about Anna?"

"What about her?"

"I can't leave her, Andrew. This new life you're proposing it's—it can't work," he replied with a hint of regret.

Slowly descending into a pit of distraught, I shook my head like a mad man and licked my lips. "No, no, it can work. Trust me, everything will be fine."

"But it won't." Jesse looked away before glancing back up at me. "We can't be together, Andrew. We can never tell anyone about what happened."

I should have known this would have been the answer, but my heart was ripping to shreds. "Please don't say you mean that."

"None of this ever happened."

"Jesse, stop."

"And we're going to go back and—and pretend everything is alright for everyone else. You have a girlfriend who—who loves you very much a-and so do I." Leaning in, Jesse glanced up and lifted his fingers to brush away the tear escaping my eye. "Sometimes we h-have to choose."

"Then choose me," I begged before letting out a silent cry.

Jesse merely shook his head. "I can't choose this. We have lives that have to commit to and let's face it, Drew, we're actors. This could destroy our careers, and I'm not letting you throw away yours for… for me." Taking in a deep breath, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me. "We have to do this. It's the right thing to do."

"But don't you love me, too?" I croaked. My body felt as though it was getting ready to vomit.

All Jesse gave me was a sad smile. My eyes searched for the answer, screaming for any indication that there was something he felt for me, too. Without another word, he brushed past me and walked back out to the party, leaving me in a heartbroken wreck. Taking in a few breaths, I leaned against the wall to stop myself from keeling over and throwing up. Once I knew I wouldn't pass out, I trudged back to the party where everything was laughs and smiles. Everyone was still as they were; Armie was spending some quality time with his wife while Joe and Shannon took center stage and danced to "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees.

Keeping my distance, my eyes finally landed on Jesse. He had resumed his spot beside Justin at our table, and on the inside I felt my heart give out. Justin was leaning against him, whispering in his ear, before Jesse nodded with a smile. When Justin looked away to see Joe and Shannon, Jesse turned his head to gaze back at me. I didn't need him to say anything because whatever he felt was written all over his face.

We all make choices.

For him, I would have to make that sacrifice.


End file.
